I Fell in Love with a Boy
by OO83
Summary: -AU-Yaoi-SasuNaru- Love is tough in high school, but it's downright impossible when you're a boy in love with another boy.
1. Chapter 1

I decided to write this in a fit of insanity. Of which I have quite a few. I hope you like, if not, tell me so. I'm not entirely certain whether or not I'll continue. Well, here we go.  
  
Warnings: Naruto POV. Written like how I think Naruto thinks.  
  
Disclaimer: Naruto, not mine. I have come to grips with this.  
  
------  
  
I fell in love with a boy.  
  
That in itself, not such a bad thing to say, you know? I've been told that girls my age say it all the time, sometimes standing in front of a mirror to make googly eyes while saying something similar to it. In fact, I think I was told (by who, I don't know, but just work with me, okay?) that if a girl doesn't say that particular sentence by the time she reaches my age, she's considered abnormal, perhaps even emotionally stunted enough to be sent off to a mental institution. So, yeah, it's not a bad thing to say, you can even say, it's a normal thing to say.  
  
Sure, if you're a girl. I just happen to be a sixteen years old boy, though.  
  
When did I find out I was in love with a boy? I don't know when it happened, but I can tell you how I came to realize that fact. It was in chemistry class, I think, or at least, in the vicinity of a chemistry class. Oh, hell, I don't attend classes too often, so cut me some slack. Anyway, it was in school. In a classroom of some sort. I was just sitting in my chair, staring off into space, probably thinking about what I could be doing instead of being in school, when my eyes caught a head of dark hair out of the corners.  
  
Dark hair that belonged to probably the most wanted man on the entire fucking planet, Uchiha Sasuke.  
  
So, yeah, I ended up staring at him during the class, not really connecting the dots, when bam, I got hit with some serious mind blowing revelatory kind of shit when he got up to leave the class with the ringing of the bell. The graceful movements of his body combined with the 'I don't give a shit' look on his pretty, pale face gave my heart a jolt and the damn thing started to hammer triple time in my chest.  
  
I kind of just sat in the empty class listening to my heartbeat for a long while before I got enough strength in my legs to stand. Then I had to sit down again because my brain finally caught up to my dancing hormones and told me some things I had missed. Like, apparently, according to my brain which I'm not sure is entirely sane, I found the damned asshole unbelievably attractive. You know, hot and bothered kind of attractive, the kind that led me to think that I wanted to do.. uh.. stuff to him. Really exciting, forbidden by the Catholics, Muslims and most other religions, stuff to him.  
  
If that wasn't enough, my brain also told me that not only did I want Sasuke's body in an unholy way, but I wanted to be with him in other ways. Like, how I've always wondered what it would be like to just talk to him, about anything and everything. Oh, and the fact that ever since I laid my eyes on him a half a year ago when he transferred in, I had always wanted to know him. Like a friend, I had thought, but apparently, as I sat in that unnamed class with my jaw dropped to the ground, I saw that I loved him.  
  
So yeah, I fell in love with a boy. His name is Uchiha Sasuke.  
  
Uh, did I mention I have yet to ever speak to him? Didn't think so. Or that I'm damned fucking sure that he's as straight as they come? Yeah. How about the fact that every girl within five hundred miles radius of him wants to be with him? Or that I was pretty damned sure that I wasn't gay until I had this fucking epiphany of self? I mean, the problems that cropped up with my realization were many.  
  
Like, let's consider traumatic fact one. Society, not very tolerant in general, and high school society.. well, I think socialist dictators had better sense of tolerance than high school kids. So, not the most conducive place to announce that you fell in love with a boy when you're obviously a boy yourself. Traumatic fact two is as follows. I'm not the most popular of kids here. Actually, I think I might be licking the bottom of the social barrel because I missed the ladder altogether. Sasuke is at the top of the said ladder, ruling the school through sheer force of his good looks and mysterious presence. I got a long climb to get to his acceptance level, because I'm sure that he won't plummet to mine. Oh, yeah, let's not forget traumatic fact three. He's got himself a girlfriend. A real pretty and real popular one, just like him, a giggling, gorgeous package with pink hair.  
  
From those alone, you realize that I'm pretty much screwed.  
  
But as they say, love makes you real stupid. Love makes you chuck all things logical and sane out the window and makes you consider the impossible dream of being with that person you pinned your heart on. Hence all those ridiculous dreams I have at night involving Sasuke, candles and various other things that surfing the net has provided me. Hey, don't look at me like that, I'm a hormone driven teenager. I'm supposed to have sex dreams.  
  
Aside from the dreams, I also have imaginary conversations with Sasuke. I sit and imagine that we're talking about sports, school, lunch specials, what have you. Once, I even managed to imagine that we talked about pottery. I know shit about pottery, yet I imagined it because why the hell not? I'm imagining this shit. Makes sense? If it does, you got one up on me, because I sure as hell don't know where my mind comes up with most of this stuff. Yep, love definitely makes you stupid, forcing your brain out your ear in manageable chunks of gray matter.  
  
So you can see where I'm going with this. I love the guy and have never spoken to him. I have wondered how the hell I could love a guy I've never talk to. For all I know, he has a terrible personality, like he likes to beat kittens or something equally icky. But truthfully, I don't think he does. Beat kittens, that is. But I don't know what his favorite color is, or what he does when he's bored or what he watches on television. Besides from the fact that he's utterly gorgeous and I want him sprawled out in a field of.. (edit, edit, edit, not for your perverted eyes), I know jack- shit about Sasuke.  
  
Yet, I am still convinced that I'm in love with him.  
  
Did I mention that I'm not the brightest bulb on the string of lights? Hell, I am that one light bulb that fails to light and makes the rest of the string go out. Still, that does not mean I can't do something about my love.  
  
So, I made plans. That's right, I decided, mooning over the guy isn't going to get me anywhere. If my dreams and infatuated imaginary scenarios are of any indication, I ain't getting over him any time soon. Then again, he's got a girlfriend, announcing your gay intentions in high school is a surefire way to commit social suicide, and I'm not the bravest guy on the planet. Lots of obstacles in the way of getting Sasuke, little too much for lil ol' me.  
  
Best I can do, or so my planning says, is to get to know Sasuke and just be his friend. That is probably the best I can do and all I can hope for in reality. I can dream about him in other ways at night, but during the day, I just want to hang with him and share his life.  
  
Sounds really corny, doesn't it? Well, love does that to you, too. I'd like to see you being all cool and Barry White in the face of hopeless love.  
  
So yeah, plans. Step one, go to school as often as possible since that is the only place I see him. Step two, find a way around the social block that is high school hierarchy and strike up a witty, amazing conversation with him. Step three, become his friend.  
  
A three step plan, a tiered plot, a flawless theory. Step one, easily done. It might even give my guardian a small coronary when I do that. As for steps two and three.. I'll get back to you.  
  
Ahem. So, here I go. I, Uzumaki Naruto, the idiot who fell in love with a boy in high school of all places, am going to go forth and be Sasuke's friend. Oh yeah, wish me luck, because boy, am I gonna need it. And while you're at it, pray for me too, but not to those homophobic gods, because they're certain to derail what little chance I have.  
  
--  
  
TBC??? 


	2. Chapter 2

Wow, thank you for the overwhelming reviews. That combined with the constant whining of my muse got me to write the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as the first part.  
  
Warning: Mild swearing (I just think Naruto has a potty mouth), Naruto POV, rambling  
  
Disclaimer: Naruto, not mine.  
  
---  
  
Chapter 2  
  
The first part of my plan, supposedly the easiest one, became kind of a stumbling block after a week or so. You see, I only get to see Sasuke in three classes plus homeroom. Go figure, he's in the genius, high level, calculus with a side of socio-geo-political whatever classes while I'm still slogging through the joys of finger painting. Seeing as out of eight periods in a day I only get to ogle him for three, I really saw no point to actually attending Sasuke-less classes, but hey, I really had nowhere to go, so I did.  
  
I think after my third straight day in my math class, the teacher almost had heart failure from seeing me there so often. Though my chem teacher (would you believe it, I do have chemistry class!) avoided the coronary, he started to look at me like an alien species. Once in a while, he would just stare off to the windows, like he was ready to see a hidden cameras crew there saying 'gotcha! You thought Naruto had really become a student!' Maybe it's the softie heart within me, but I felt vaguely guilty about causing him so much stress just 'cause I decided to attend classes.  
  
But yeah, a week of solid attendance was the beginning of the plan, but man, did it ever have consequences. Like, I got called into the guidance counselor's office. Can you believe it? Who gets called in for going to classes? What are they gonna do if I ever get an 'A' in a course, send me off to the mental hospital before I poison the innocent students around me with my nefarious ways?  
  
Sheesh, if I hadn't been getting my Sasuke fix in homeroom (only fifteen minutes, damn it), gym (oh god, the locker rooms..), art (Sasuke in a smock, pretty damned hot), and English (hey, I can't believe I'm in a high level class either, it was a glitch in the system), then the whole week would have been unbearable. As it was, seeing the guidance counselor was no bed of roses either. Or it could be a bed of roses, if those roses had some lethal thorns.  
  
Oh, yeah, guidance counselor. His name, Hatake Kakashi. His rep, even creepier than my best friend's. His face, a total complete mystery since he wears a mask that only shows his left eye.  
  
Total sum of Kakashi: A fucking weirdo.  
  
And they put him in charge of guiding students into the right path. Go figure.  
  
Anyway, I had to go see him. I got called out in the middle of a class, whichever one that Sasuke wasn't in, by the intercom thing. Getting called out, not unusual. Half the time I'm in school, I'm getting summoned to the principal's office for something or another, usually to respond to such questions as 'why did you miss your 'insert random class' midterm' or 'were you aware that those two chemicals combined causes explosions.' Ya know, normal stuff. In fact, I see the principal, Dr. Sarutobi, so much that I think of him as a surrogate grandfather of sorts. He tells me not to do lots of stuff and I remind him that his grandson's birthday is coming up. Not all bad, you know, and really, if I was getting reamed for coming to school too much, I'd rather it be from Dr. Sarutobi, not creep-master Kakashi.  
  
But whatever, the things I will do to fulfill my plans for Sasuke. That's right, I'm in love.  
  
So, yeah, Kakashi. When I entered his small, cramped office, all I saw was his head of silver hair behind his computer monitor and he didn't even look my way. He just kind of waved his hand at me, either in greeting or to swat a fly, and said nothing. Whatever was on that monitor was way more interesting than me, and by his rep, I would say he was visiting one of those sites that my guardian warned me that if I ever went, I'd be grounded into the next century, possibly longer. That just meant that I sat and waited. And waited. Daydreamed about Sasuke. Waited some more.  
  
Half an hour later, I was fairly sure that Kakashi had forgotten that I was even there. What is that saying, insult on top of injury? Yeah, that'd be the situation.  
  
Then boom, he spoke. Still not looking at me, but he at least let me know that he was aware of my presence.  
  
"Uzumaki Naruto?"  
  
"Yah." So here we go, the interrogation of why I have decided to become a model student.  
  
"Do you have a problem you'd like to discuss with me?"  
  
Well, no, who the hell tells their problems to a guidance counselor except on those cheesy shows where teachers are supposedly cool?  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
If he had not sounded genuinely confused, I might have been offended. After all, he was the one who had called me, it's not like I volunteered to be there. See what I mean about the weirdo part?  
  
"Uh, actually, you-" I meant to go on and say a bunch of things here. Like how I didn't want to be there, like how it was really not cool of him to forget about me for half an hour, you know, rant. But he's a smooth one, I tell you, because before I even got started, he had somehow decided that we were done talking and dismissed me outright. It all happened real fast, so fast that before I knew it, I was back in the hallway, joining the fray of students as they shuffled off to some class or another. That was the extent of my visit to Kakashi.  
  
What the hell. That was the only thought in my mind as I made my way to the cafeteria for some lunch.  
  
Oh, yeah. Lunch. Sasuke's there. I don't count it as a class, it's lunch, for chrissakes, and it gives me half an hour of undiluted staring at Sasuke time. I'm still working up the nerve to go and talk to him, but it's hard. Popular kids have this mind defying and really tough force field against those who are not popular. You know the one, where if you cross that invisible line into their five thousand mile wide personal space, they give you The Look.  
  
Sasuke has one that could possibly have its own zip code, so yeah, not so easy to approach. But still, I'm working on it, damn it.  
  
Now, lunch is where you find out just exactly where on the feeding totem pole of social status you stand. The worshipped ones have their own table, the one you are not allowed to even touch unless you have that stamp of approval. Then the little cliques, from the lesser jocks to the business leaders of tomorrow, they all got their own space. Then there's me. And my best friend. We are the only ones at the butt end of the 'teria, at the corner table. No one comes near us, you know, they want to avoid being contaminated by our sheer unpopularity.  
  
Or it could be Gaara, my aforementioned best friend. He's.. hmmm.. as his best friend, I don't really see anything wrong with him, except that he wears more eye makeup than your average goth queen, but to the rest of the populace, he might as well be a blood-sucking creature of the night who preys on virgins. Wait, nix the virgin part, because then I think I'm the only one in danger.  
  
Anyway, I made a beeline for my table and Gaara was already there, unwrapping something that could have passed as edible if it wasn't so damned green. He looked up, his ice blue eyes ready to impale the approaching intruder, but they softened when he saw that it was just me.  
  
"Five days in a row. A record?"  
  
I stick my tongue out at him and slouch in a chair across from him. "Hey, I gotta reform sometime, right?" He shakes his head at me, sending his short, spiky red hair all over the place. He doesn't believe me, hell, I don't believe me, but he plays along. Good best friend.  
  
"So, you got called by Kakashi?"  
  
"Geh, you mind? I'd like to forget what happened." Not that anything had happened, but it had left me feeling somewhat bad. No one likes being that blatantly ignored, even if you are me and quite used to it.  
  
"Whatever. Where's your lunch?"  
  
Oh yeah. I forgot to bring it from my locker, seeing how I was somewhat pissed off about the earlier incident. Ah well, no matter. I'll just skip the next class and eat then. I might have some kind of a language class, was it French, Spanish, oh it could even be Swahili, not like I actually know.  
  
"You're hopeless." Gaara sighs knowingly, scratching absently at his tattoo on his forehead. The tattoo, it's 'love' in kanji, ultra cool in my opinion. To others.. well, when he showed up with it two years ago during our freshmen pep rally or something, he caused a bit of a stir, got into a fight with some jocks who had the balls to make fun of him, sent them to the hospital, got arrested, suspended, et cetera. Not the best of memories, but hey, the tattoo's cool. And besides, after that, no one messed with Gaara.  
  
So, without food to hinder me, and Gaara's not much of a talker, I got to stare at Sasuke. He was sitting way, way far away, as far away as his cool self and cool friends could get from me and Gaara (I'm thinking we're not losers, just misfits. Stop laughing.) without actually leaving the cafeteria. But I could see him, sitting with his girlfriend, the cheerleader, captain of the pep squad, president of a bunch of clubs Sakura. I envy her, being so close to him, but hey, she's got two advantages over me. One, she's popular and two, she's a girl. Both very, very large advantages over me and I don't know which one's harder for me to overcome, high school social structure or gender.  
  
"If you stare any harder, your eyes are going to fall out."  
  
I leave off musing over Sasuke for a sec to look over at Gaara. He's got one of his eyebrows arched up, like he's considering signing me up for out- patient therapy at St. Joseph Psychiatric Hospital.  
  
"I didn't want to pry.." Oh wait, I hear a 'but' coming.. "but you've been staring over there for days now."  
  
I offer no answers. I mean, I love Gaara, he is my best friend, but I'm not sure how I can tell him about.. you know. What do I do, just go over to his house one day and during an exciting bout of Soul Calibur II as he is kicking my ass with Talim, and say that I'm in love with a boy, with THE Uchiha Sasuke of all people?  
  
Yeah, I don't see it happening.  
  
Then his face does this transformation and I can see how other people might find Gaara scary. The look on his face.. I'd say, predatory.  
  
"You have a crush on someone."  
  
Okay, at this point, I'm thinking, Gaara is telepathic. Also, I'm feeling the blood drain out of my face in shock. How the hell?  
  
"I wonder.." Gaara smiles (oh yeah, the scary smile) and looks over to the direction I've been staring at for days now. His eyes scan, consider, reject, weigh, discard, accepts. Then he shakes his head at me and says, "Naruto, you're really an idiot." Well, duh, why else am I in love with Sasuke?  
  
"How could you have a crush on someone like Sakura?"  
  
What? Who? Huh?  
  
I don't get time to respond, because the bell rings and Gaara leaves me sitting at the table, still trying to figure out what the fuck happened.  
  
Gaara thinks I have a crush on Sakura?  
  
Well, if that isn't the king of all misunderstandings.  
  
-- TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

I'm happy that you guys like this story. I loved the reviews, every single one of them. They definitely made my day better. As for those wondering about my other story, I am still working on it, so don't worry. It's just that this story has me by the ankles and won't let go for some reason..  
  
Anyway, I hope you guys like what I wrote here.  
  
Warnings: There will be angst. This is a love story, after all, what's love without that miserable angst? But still, Naruto POV, bit of language, smart-assness. Grammar spoofs, perhaps.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. Thank my therapist for that admission.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Sometimes, things happen that challenge my complete lack of belief in a benevolent divine being. Or at least, spur me to find Lady Luck and kick her unnecessarily interfering ass. So, what is making me want to pummel a deity held in high regard by most and the non-existent lady worshipped by gamblers?  
  
The fact that Sasuke and I actually talked. That's right, we talked, with words. English words.  
  
You're thinking, oh that's good, you should be happy. But oh no, there's nothing to be happy about. You want to know what I'm yammering about?  
  
Let's back up and see what the hell happened, shall we?  
  
Anyway, after school one day, not too long after that Sakura mess, it could be a Tuesday or even a Wednesday, they all blur together in a mess, I went over to Gaara's house to hang. Usually, we hang at his place because it is massive. Mansion massive. Like, I got lost there one day looking for the bathroom and had to use a planter while ignoring the maid's scandalized screams. Yeah, he has maids. And butlers who wear those tuxedo things and talk to you with that upper crust Brit accents. I guess you got the correct impression that Gaara, or at least, his father, is loaded.  
  
So it's more fun to haunt his house than mine. He has the house all to himself, minus all the servants and cooks and gardeners and some such, so no one yells at him. His father is a big business guy who travels all the time and for the near three years Gaara and I've been friends, I have yet to see they guy. His older brother, Kankuro is at college and his older sister, Temari, moved out when we were in our sophomore year to live with her boyfriend. Gaara's kind of lonely because he's there all by himself, so I kind of invade his home as often as possible. He doesn't mind at all, he even said if I wanted, I could just move in with my guardian, Iruka. Cool, huh?  
  
I did ask Iruka if we could, to which he replied in various choking noises and bulging eyes. I took that to mean 'no,' but hey, the idea was awesome. Living with my best friend and my guardian in a house the size of Texas, fully loaded with electronics, basketball court, swimming pool, you name it, it has it. Too bad Iruka doesn't think it's a good idea. I mean, I like our house, it's small, always in a mess because neither of us likes to clean, and got that cozy feeling, but come on!  
  
Okay, off that tangent and back to the story of how Sasuke and I came to have a conversation. Where was I? Oh yeah, hanging out with Gaara and playing video games. And I'm trying to convince him, between the messy ways he's killing me in yet another game, that I do not have a crush on Sakura.  
  
"She's got pink hair, Gaara! Pink isn't my color at all."  
  
The little shit smirks, like he doesn't believe me. Which he doesn't.  
  
"You know," he murmurs, his voice a low hum, "you have been telling me how and why you do not like Sakura for.. oh.." He glances at the mantle clock above the immense television entertainment set, taking his eyes off the video game but still kicking my sorry ass. "An hour and forty minutes now."  
  
"That's because you won't believe me!" Yeah, I can whine. "What kind of best friend doesn't believe me when I say something like that?"  
  
"The kind with a brain." Oh lord, the fucking irony.. "and besides, you heard of the phrase, 'thou protests too much'?"  
  
"Stop that! That's from something I haven't read, isn't it?"  
  
In case you want to know, Gaara likes to toss in cool and intellectual sounding phrases into his speech pattern. Why? Who the hell knows? Half the time, I don't know what he's thinking and the times that I do, I wish that I didn't.  
  
See how we get along so well?  
  
"Fine, fine." Gaara stands, and I see that I have been completely annihilated, again, in the game. Then he stretches, his arms stretching way above his head, and tosses me an amused grin. "You don't like Sakura. I believe you."  
  
Liar, liar, pants on fire. Or at least, the pants will be on fire when I get some gasoline and matches!  
  
"Since you don't like Sakura," he continues, apparently not noticing the way my thoughts have turned to imminent pyromania, "you should prove it to me."  
  
Heh? "You believe me, but I have to prove it?" Isn't there a contradiction in there somewhere?  
  
"By proving it, I will consider this subject matter closed."  
  
This once again proves that my best friend is a twisted, sadistic bastard who knows how to torture me. On one hand, I can have him continue to make fun of me over Sakura who I do not like. Or, I can see what he means by proving it.  
  
I asked him to give me some time to think on it. A big decision like this, I need to sleep on it, you know, read that as avoid it.  
  
So, next day in school, which I attended, I was preoccupied with Gaara's 'prove it or lose it' challenge. That does not mean I forgot to stare at Sasuke nor that I put my project on hold. Just.. I had other things on my mind. It just felt like I was lying to my best friend somehow, by letting him think that I liked Sakura. But hell, I did not have the guts to tell him the absolute truth. Geh, me and my stinking ethics.  
  
I do have them, you know.  
  
Preoccupied as I was, I was actually early to a class. Gym. You know, where they turn you into an impressive specimen of teenaged goodness of muscle and balanced diet, otherwise known as 'bullcrap.' In the past, before my Sasuke obsession, I never attended gym. I got enough exercise running from the jocks whose lockers I vandalized or car tires I'd punctured on a daily basis. I seriously did not need gym. Then I started attending, due to Sasuke being there and all, but always went late because the first day I was there, I realized that I won't do so well with Sasuke undressing about three feet from me.  
  
Uchiha and Uzumaki. Alphabetically, very, very close. Makes lockers very close. Makes horny, hormone driven, in love blonde boy of short stature (that's me) very, very, very, very stupid. As in, I stared. Really couldn't help it. Then, I dehydrated from drooling out my body's water supply. Third, right next to the mantra 'he's so hot, nice abs, oh god, his arms, holy crap, he wears boxer briefs,'.. was my constant reminder of 'down, erection, down!'  
  
See, bad situation. One I learned to avoid after that first potentially embarrassing day in the locker room even though I so wanted to stare more at Sasuke's undressed form. I wanted to be his friend, not creep him out by leering at him like a pervert. But thanks to Gaara, I forgot and went to the locker rooms early, before anyone else had made an appearance.  
  
Except for Sasuke.  
  
There he was, standing there with his shirt half off, and I just about lost my thought processes. I almost turned around and left, but he saw me, scowled slightly, and I saw that if I did leave, it'd be even stranger, so I went to my locker, fighting down the blush and the staring impulse. I opened my locker as slowly as possible, suppressing the urge to crawl into it and hide. We were alone, in a locker room, getting undressed.  
  
One of my wet dreams? Damn straight. A premise for many, many porns? Whoa, yeah. Jerk-off material for tonight? You betcha.  
  
Safe to say, my mind was swimming in the gutters, various scenes of.. hell, use your imagination, because I certainly used mine. Then, as I was in the middle of a particularly spectacular scene involving Sasuke and the bench I was sitting on, he spoke to me.  
  
Yeah, he, Sasuke, talked to me first. So began the conversation that I so curse.  
  
"I hear that you have a crush on my girlfriend."  
  
See what I mean by not liking the whole situation?  
  
I'm sorry to say, for full three seconds, I gaped. Like a fish. A carp, or perhaps, even one of those sea bass things. Then, my brilliant come back.  
  
"I do?"  
  
Funny, how 'I certainly do not like your girlfriend, though she is a nice person, and more importantly, I was hoping we could be friends' came out so short. And as a question.  
  
"Whatever." He smirked. Gorgeous. "You do know you have no chance, right?"  
  
"I don't?" Okay, brain, engage. NOW!  
  
"Just to let you know." He finished dressing into his gym uniform, complete with those shorts that just had no right to look so damned sexy. I guess he finished as I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Still haven't figure it out, and he was leaving!  
  
Then, whoosh, he was gone and I was left sitting on the bench, my mouth still open like a barn door, holding my gym clothes in a grip that could have turned coals to diamonds.  
  
What the.. Did he just.. How the hell..  
  
Let me untangle my thought processes and explain it to you.  
  
One: What the hell did he mean by that?  
  
Two: Did he just talk to me about having a crush on Sakura?  
  
Three: How the hell did he hear that stupid, untrue piece of gossip?  
  
See why I'm cursing the gods and wanting to chase down Lady Luck with a sawed-off shotgun? I was supposed to talk to Sasuke and woo him into being my friend by being witty and amazing, damn it! How had this happened if not for those cursed gods and that thrice damned bitch called Luck?  
  
That's when I gave up being in school for the day and high tailed it out of there. I was lucky to have enough presence of mind to put my normal clothes on before I did or I would have been in a whole different kind of trouble. Man, when plans go down the crapshoot, they really go fast, don't they?  
  
So that's how my first actual encounter with Sasuke involving words of the English kind occurred. Afterwards, when my brain finally decided to join the party, I blamed the gods, I blamed fickle Luck, and to be fair, I blamed Gaara. If it wasn't for him telling me to prove that I didn't like Sakura, I would not have gone to gym so early and I would not have had that ridiculous talk with Sasuke.  
  
Sasuke thinks I like Sakura. And he taunted me about it, smirking in that sexy way, using his bedroom voice to let me know that indeed, I was quite far beneath him.  
  
And you know what? It had.. hurt.  
  
Argh, maybe this is a sign that I should not be in love with him, but the heart is a dumb-ass organ, bent on doing things its own, stupid way.  
  
Well, no use being depressed, because I'm thinking, it can't possibly get any worse.  
  
Oh shit.. I just challenged the power of worse. Excuse me while I crack my skull open, pull out my completely useless brain and nail it to the wall.  
  
--  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

The reviews have been quite wonderful. I do love hearing back from everyone. Here's the next part, hope it works.  
  
Warnings: illicit teenage activities, bit of language, my idea of humor.  
  
Disclaimer: I won Naruto in a poker game. Then while I was celebrating, I was taken to a nice, padded room by very nice men in white coats.  
  
Notes: Those who are disgruntled with the whole Sasuke and Sakura thing – don't be so worried. I got plans. And explanations. Not in this chapter, but later on. (puts on flak jacket and runs for cover).  
  
--  
  
Chapter 4  
  
You ever notice that gossip travels faster than shit through a goose? Superman has nothing on the speed of gossip, hell, I think gossip goes faster than light. It's a force of nature, too, able to make or break you depending on the juiciness of it. I've seen it bring down the great ones from the top and raise unworthy ones to levels of respectability.  
  
As for me, it was just annoying.  
  
Now, high school has a few rules, some more sacred to teenagers than anything the bible spouts. One is that an unpopular cretin such as myself with no social standing and an awful lot of negatives on his record cannot and must not like anyone from the upper echelon (check out that SAT word, baby) of society. And through some mysterious force, the damned untrue gossip that I like Sakura had spread throughout the entire school and by Friday, I was getting talked about more than an episode of Survivor.  
  
Granted, no one directly spoke to me, such is not nature of gossip. Everyone talked behind my back, sometimes in front of my face but still not to me. There was a bit of staring, a whole hell lot of laughing and in some instances, creative name calling.  
  
All things I'm quite used to, so as I said, just annoying, not really all that new.  
  
Except I so do not like the girl.  
  
Not like I could deny it though. My best friend doesn't fucking believe me, what chance do I have with the rest of them? Though, I got to thinking, isn't that better than people knowing the truth? I'm getting grief for liking a popular girl. I think I'd lose more than face if they found out that I liked a popular boy. Actually, I think I'd be hunted like a rabbit, skinned, stuffed and mounted after a due amount of torture if they ever found out.  
  
I shudder to think of it.  
  
So, no wonder that after school on Friday, I had an undeniable urge to just get the hell off school grounds and do something stupid and fun. Thankfully, Gaara was right on track with me. Even if he can be an ass, he still has some good ideas that mesh with mine.  
  
That's right, we're gonna be real bad boys and get drunk.  
  
Of course, Iruka can't and will under no uncertain terms know about that. It is a true thing that many, many teenagers on weekends get blasted, wasted, bombed, what have you at some random kegger thrown at the house of some poor kid whose parents have taken a vacation or something. I've heard stories about cops, ugly break-ups with crying girls, various acts of criminal nature, et cetera that have taken place at such parties.  
  
Notice I say I heard, since I've never been to a kegger. Not that you need an invitation card or something to go, but I swear, if I ever showed up, I'd get escorted off the premises by some beefy jock who has more gin in his system than common sense. So, for sake of self preservation, if I want to get drunk, I do it at Gaara's house with him.  
  
Good thing his butler, Jacob or Jason or.. whatever his name is, buys whatever Gaara tells him to buy. On that note, also probably a good thing that Gaara and I only like the drinking instead of other drugs, or Jacob (whatever his name is) might have to hang out at crack town in his nifty looking penguin suit.  
  
Now, that'd be funny.  
  
So I told Iruka that I'd be spending the night at Gaara's, for which I got a bit of lecturing (he trusts me as far as he can throw me) about not doing anything bad. I told him that of course not, what could I possibly do with my best friend who's richer than a South American country?  
  
Wrong thing to say, obviously, but my mouth has no connection to my brain. Iruka responded by telling me the many things I have already done and could do in the near future. I won't tell it to you, because the list was long. Very, very long.  
  
Iruka has some imagination, which I'm sure I've inflamed with my past acts. Well, such is life with me. It's never, ever boring.  
  
Safe to say, Gaara and I were fairly tipsy by the hour of seven. That's right, we don't freaking dawdle when we're contributing to our own delinquency. We were downing something from the clear liquor family, a vile tasting thing with ice because we're too lazy to throw in mixers. Hey, we're teenagers. We drink to get drunk, not for taste.  
  
Of course, the whole time, Gaara's merciless about my supposed crush on Sakura. I know he told no one, he hardly speaks to anyone at all, so I asked him, how the hell did the entire school get to know about this?  
  
"Duh, stupid," Gaara responded, his words only slightly slurred, "someone probably overheard you. You're loud, you know?"  
  
"But I didn't say it!" Damn straight I didn't. I remember that scene rather clearly. "You said it and then Sasuke said it-"  
  
"Hold up," he breaks in, his finger nearly poking my eye out in its mad waggling, "Sasuke said what?"  
  
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention to Gaara that Sasuke spoke to me. Don't blame me, I'm still kind of hurt and shocked by the whole thing still. I mean, how would you feel if the guy you loved came up to you and accused of liking his girlfriend? See, something you wouldn't announce to anyone, even your best friend.  
  
Although, through my alcohol glazed sense of humor, it's kind of funny. You know, in that Mexican soap opera kind of way. And, I suppose Gaara would want to know why the king of the school, Sasuke my secret crush, would talk to me. Voluntarily at that.  
  
So, I tell Gaara of the encounter in the locker room (sounds like a movie, or at least, a soft core porn, right?) minus all my sex fantasies that had flashed through my mind like a Thanksgiving float parade and Gaara, the considerate shithead that he is, laughs at me until he falls over. Then he hiccoughs out that I'm damned lucky Sasuke didn't beat me up for it then he tells me I'm stupid. Again.  
  
Is he really my best friend or what?  
  
I can't be mad at him, not like he knows about my attraction to Sasuke, so definitely, he's not trying to hurt my feelings. I mean, if Gaara told me that he liked Sakura, I wouldn't hesitate from laughing him out of the county either. Well, that is, if I could even imagine Gaara liking anyone. I can't exactly imagine the type of girl (or boy, I might not be the only one) he'd go for. Certainly not one of the cheerleaders, he'd eat them for breakfast. Literally. Not one of the brainy ones, he hates people acting smarter than him. Or.. hell, anyone at school. He hates them all and they are all pretty much afraid of him.  
  
Supposedly good for running a small, third world country, but not for finding love in high school.  
  
Anyhow, after Gaara finished laughing, which took forever because he's a giggly drunk, we played more video games, drank more, and eventually, around eleven, Gaara passed out cold. I mean, I didn't even get a warning or anything. We were in the middle of watching some movie on DVD, then thunk, he fell over, off the couch and straight into the table. Face first.  
  
I stared at him through my very, very bleary eyes for a long while, trying to figure out if I should wake him, move him or just fuck it all, then.. my insane brain soaked in alcohol came up with a brilliant idea. Actually, I won't blame my brain this time, I'll blame the little demon of trouble that lives deep within me.  
  
Basically, I came up with an equation that seemed wonderfully funny. Best friend added by his passing out cold, multiply with magic markers with exponent Naruto. Got that? Because it all equals one thing: I, Uzumaki Naruto, who has no fear of death with fire water blazing through my veins, wielded magic markers of rainbow hues and drew all over Gaara's face.  
  
And arms. Legs, too. Oh, hell, every section of exposed skin and then some.  
  
Three things happened after I finished. One, I laughed. Really hard. Gaara with pink mustache, green stars and peace signs all over him, very funny. As drunk as I was, beyond hilarious. Okay, two, a cold realization of what I had done and to WHOM I'd done it to. A whole reel of my eventual, messy death at the hands of my enraged best friend played in my mind, nearly scaring me sober. Three, running. As in, bolting out of his house full speed, most likely screaming bloody murder (if Gaara had woken up, that's what it would have been), into the street and towards my house.  
  
Or at least, I think it was towards my house. My sense of direction when sober is pretty fucked, but when drunk, I can't find my own ass. So, yeah, the running from Gaara's house was not the best thing to do. I mean, I live like five miles away, and it's not like I could call Iruka to pick me up.  
  
So I do believe I meandered around Gaara's neighborhood in the middle of Friday night, trying to find my drunk way home. None of the street signs helped, it's not like I ever paid attention to them since I don't drive. I couldn't just ask for directions, it was the middle of the night in a ritzy neighborhood. No one was out. I'd be lucky if I didn't get spotted by the cops who liked to make lazy circles around rich suburbs. Man, that would not sit right with Iruka, I'd be grounded until the apocalypse if Iruka had to get me out of jail for loitering while drunk.  
  
Somewhere away from Gaara's, nowhere near my place, around two in the morning, I finally gave in and decided that I was really damned lost. It was kind of cold, my drunk buzz was wearing thin and I was rather miserable. I mean, check out my misery laden week, really. The whole school, including my psychotic best friend, is convinced that I'm in love with Sakura. Everyone is talking about me, even people that I was pretty sure didn't even know about me. Sasuke said some things to me that still stick in my gut, my plans to be his friend seems to have gone down the shithole and now I'm lost, drunk and getting chilly. And in the morning, or whenever Gaara finds me, he is going to teach me the true meaning of the word 'dismemberment.'  
  
I was definitely not in the best of moods, as you can understand, nor was I necessarily paying attention to anything around me. It was two in the morning, why should I look both ways before crossing the road? Hell, why should I even use the sidewalk? For I didn't do any of that, and combined with my alcohol buzz and the whole thinking deeply about my life, it's no wonder I didn't see that stupid car coming or that I stood there kind of like deer in headlights.  
  
Did I get hit? Couldn't say. Did the car swerve just in time to avoid making Naruto pancake? Don't really know.  
  
Because about then, the alcohol, sleepiness and shock all mixed in an interesting cocktail and I passed out. I won't say fainted, what kind of a guy faints, for god's sake, but I definitely fizzed out of reality and into a happy dreamland.  
  
Why do I say dreamland? Because I saw Sasuke's beautiful face, wreathed in a golden light, looking down at me, asking me if I was okay.  
  
Damned good dream, if I do say so myself, worth getting run over.  
  
--  
  
TBC  
  
-- 


	5. Chapter 5

As always, the reviews were wonderful. They always give me a funny, goofy smile and that's a good thing, since my work life gives me nothing to smile about.. As requested, chapter 5 is here. I hope it makes you laugh and cry.  
  
Warnings: Little swearing, Naruto POV, enter Sasuke with more than one sentence and.. OOC in the wildest sense. You'll see.  
  
Disclaimer: Naruto not mine. This story, though, is a product of my sick, twisted humor.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 5  
  
The first thing I notice is that I do not recognize the room I'm currently occupying. Second thing is that my mouth tastes like something furry crawled in there only to die and leave its disgusting, rotting corpse behind. Third thing is that the faint scent wafting up from the unfamiliar pillow is quite nice, comforting and soothing.  
  
Then I bolt up, stifle a scream at the feel of evil hammers playing triple time march in my head, and look around for real.  
  
White walls, two windows with white blinds letting in morning light, a desk with books on it and a bed with a little table by it. Those are my surroundings in this wholly unfamiliar room. What had happened, where was I, and why the hell am I in only my boxers?  
  
I sit there for a moment, trying to figure out my situation, but everything I imagined gets thrown out the window the moment the door opens and Sasuke steps in.  
  
Yeah. Sasuke. Really.  
  
My jaw dropped, my eyes widened until I'm sure I showed the bone structure beneath and my throat closed up so that anything resembling words could not get passed it. Was I still dreaming? Did I really get hit by the car, go into a coma, get dropped into a happy heaven where I wake up and Sasuke walks in carrying a glass of water wearing the sexiest scowl ever?  
  
Not likely, but hell, that is what is happening. I think. I hope.  
  
"You aren't dead."  
  
Well, I'm glad one of us is sure on that. As is, I'm not entirely certain that I'm alive and this is reality. I watch absolutely dumbfounded as he walks over, puts down the glass on the table, and glares at me through his long bangs. At this point, I have several million questions running a marathon in my pounding head, and I pick one out at random to ask.  
  
"Where the hell am I?"  
  
A disgusted grunt escapes his lips and I'm certain that this must be Sasuke. No one else on this green earth can make that sound and manage to arouse me through my hangover.  
  
"You're in my room, idiot."  
  
Of course! In his room! Where else would I be on a Saturday morning if not in Sasuke's room. Which made this bed.. his bed.  
  
Give me a moment so I can clobber some of my more dirty fantasies back into submission before I do something gross in his bed.  
  
"What am I doing here?"  
  
Really, the most obvious question. I thought I'd dreamed his face the night before, but maybe, since I'm where I am and my secret love(r) is standing over me, I hadn't been as passed out drunk as I thought I was.  
  
"You passed out in front of my car." Wow, can he sound any more pissed off? "And I thought I had run you over." Good for me, he didn't, or I'd be in a hospital, probably chained to the bed by Iruka and the cops. "But I hadn't, my car's fine." Thanks for the concern there, Sasuke love. "I don't know where you live, I couldn't just leave you in the middle of the street, so I brought you here."  
  
Sure, be all logical and shit when I'm still not sure what is going on. But whatever, I'm in his room, in his bed and he's talking to me. I'd have given my left arm for this opportunity, but hell, all I had to do was nearly get run over by him.  
  
Fair trade, I say.  
  
"Uh.. Sorry for the trouble?"  
  
"Whatever," he growls, and shoves the water in my face, "just drink this, get dressed and get out."  
  
Bedside manners, zero. Sex god value, off the scale. My level of confusion and amusement, rapidly approaching breaking point.  
  
"Uh.." hmm, how to ask without sounding like Kakashi.. "why am I half naked?"  
  
As far as I can tell, it is a valid question. I mean, Sasuke could have just dumped me in his bed, hell, his couch, fully clothed. I'm rather disappointed that I missed the whole Sasuke undressing me piece by piece (tongue, back in the mouth!), but still, logic states that he should not have.  
  
"Oh, that." Is that a blush on his face or am I hallucinating? I go for the latter when his mouth twists into a sour line. "On my way carrying you into the house, I dropped you in the fish pond in the front yard."  
  
A what? Speech has completely deserted me, leaving me only to make strangling noises.  
  
"I couldn't have you sleep with wet clothes, so I had to get them off you."  
  
Wow. Of all the scenarios I'd imagined with Sasuke undressing me in any fashion, getting dropped into a dirty pool of fish water while unconscious had never occurred to me. I'm not sure whether I'm lucky or fucked beyond belief.  
  
The impatient arm shoving the glass of water nearly up my nose brings me out of my musings and I take it from him to sip. Sheesh, he has no sympathy for the madly confused and hungover, does he?  
  
"Thanks for everything," I manage to say after I drain the water. "You didn't have to put me up, you know."  
  
Okay, I so meant to sound grateful there, not like a pissy-ass brat! But hell, that's how it came out and that's how Sasuke heard it because his left eye started ticking in that real bad way. Like he was contemplating where to bury my body kind of way.  
  
Man, am I wasting my god given opportunity to have Sasuke fall madly in love, I mean, check that, be my friend or what? I beg of you to shoot me before my mouth splurts out something I can't take back.  
  
"Just.." Sasuke pauses, breathing through his mouth (most likely so that he can calm down and not carve me into sushi). "Get. Out." Another pause, and wow, I can actually hear him grinding his teeth. "NOW."  
  
"Yeah. Sure." I fidget, knowing I blew this one chance. I'm stupid, so very stupid. "But I don't know where I am." Can I sound any more pathetic? "Can I.. call someone?"  
  
Another disgusted snort, which I'm beginning to think is Sasuke's method of communication, and he tosses his cell phone at my head. Only my years of training brought on by avoiding things thrown at me by the various people I've pissed off saved me from getting a cell-phone shaped lump on my already pain filled head.  
  
I hold the cell, stare into the dancing fish on the screen (what the hell?) and wonder, who the hell do I call? Iruka is right out, he'd never, ever understand the situation. I don't even understand it. All I know is, if I call my worry-wart guardian from a number he doesn't recognize, he'd go batshit crazy, make up wild stories about my supposed criminal antics the night before and ground me until the end of the world as we know it.  
  
Yeah, Iruka, not an option.  
  
But that left Gaara. Besides from the fact that he'd kill me for my artistic venture, he would never let me live this down. Ever.  
  
Lesser of the two evils. I'm just not sure which is less..  
  
In the end, I dial Gaara. Best friends forgive and forget, right? Right?  
  
On the first ring, a stuffy sounding man, probably that butler, picks up.  
  
"Sabakuno residence. How may I help you?"  
  
"Hey.. Naruto here." My eyes flit nervously to Sasuke who's watching me like a hawk. "Is Gaara awake?"  
  
"Ah, Master Naruto." How the hell can that sound so condescending? "Wait a moment please."  
  
A short second later, Gaara picks up, and I can actually feel the killing force radiating off him through the line. Wow, he must be pissed.  
  
"Where. Are. You."  
  
Had he said 'you are dead,' it may have been more comforting.  
  
"You won't believe this, Gaara.." I laugh nervously and Sasuke raises his left eyebrow at me. He looks damned pissed and amused at the same time. Huh, strange combo. "But before I tell you, I have a favor-"  
  
"Favor?" That was not a sound that humans are supposed to make. "Favor?" Oh, shit, I'm not only dead, my corpse is going to be desecrated as well. "After what you did?"  
  
"Sorry.. You know how I get when I'm drunk.."  
  
"You sorry little bastard," Gaara snarls, "you used permanent markers!"  
  
Oh. That's bad.  
  
"I showered three times already and the shit has not come off."  
  
Real bad.  
  
"Gaara.." I trail off, not quite knowing how to calm him down enough so that he won't feel so murderous. Also, Sasuke staring at me sitting on his bed half naked like I'm going to take off with his family silver, not helping.  
  
"It was.." I continue, my courage failing badly, "it was a joke.."  
  
"I am not laughing!"  
  
To be fair, neither am I.  
  
"You are dead, you hear me? When I get my hands on you-"  
  
That's when I click the off button and hang up on my best friend. I'm fairly sure that he was going to say a bunch of nasty things that he read in one of his medieval torture books and I'm in no condition to hear them right now. I'm feeling sick enough as is, you know?  
  
I sigh, though it came out more as a whimper, and smile shakily at Sasuke who's staring at me with that disdainful smirk. Well, Gaara can't come get me, because I like living, it's a nice thing and Iruka can't come get me, no power on earth would force me to call my guardian because I like my freedom.. so..  
  
"Can you drive me home, Sasuke?"  
  
To say that his face was the epitome of disbelief would be an understatement.  
  
"What?" He crosses his arms and starts to tap madly on the floor with his foot. I'm getting the distinct impression that he's not happy with my request. "Are you completely daft?"  
  
Well, obviously. And I'm pretty desperate too. If I don't get home soon, Iruka's going to call Gaara and there will be hell to pay. More than I already have to pay, anyways.  
  
"I have no way of getting home," I say, my eyes pleading and frantic, "and you sure don't want me around here." That hurt to say, but I guess it's the truth. "Please?"  
  
"Walk home for all I care."  
  
Gods, my secret crush is not very compassionate, is he?  
  
"Oh come on!" Can you believe it, I'm getting angry. I mean, sure, I passed out in front of his car, made him bring me here, took over his bed (why his bed?), and was being a pain all around, but driving me home could not be that fucking hard!  
  
"No. Get dressed and leave or I will throw you out as is."  
  
Okay, note to self: Sasuke is a jerk.  
  
Still hot, still sexy, still in love with him, but Sasuke is an asshole. Confirmed.  
  
"Sheesh," I sigh as I get my sorry ass out of his bed and pick up my clothes off the floor, "are you always this nice or only when you nearly kill someone?"  
  
Oh, that look on his face.. Enraged explosion accompanied by severe mutilation of one Naruto, ETA, five.. four.. three..  
  
"Sasuke, just drive the poor thing home."  
  
Two. One.. Huh?  
  
Sasuke and I both turn to the door which is open and see a man leaning against the frame casually. He and I have very different reactions to this new person. Sasuke looks like he's about to commit a terrible act of homicide, and I'm just shocked into immobility.  
  
How many times can my body and mind suffer these intense situations before it fizzles? I think I'm nearing the point of no return at this rate.  
  
"Itachi.." Sasuke growls, and that's the last thing I remember hearing coherently, because then my mind went into an interesting place of contemplation.  
  
Contemplation number one: That must be Sasuke's older brother, they look so much alike.  
  
Contemplation number two: So that's what a grown man looks like in nothing but a silver sequined vest and red hot pants.  
  
Contemplation number three: There is none, because I'm still trying to reconcile with contemplation number two.  
  
Wow, can I say, one crazy morning so far? I'd say, hell yes.  
  
--  
  
TBC  
  
-- 


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, once again. Thank you for the wonderful reviews. I'm glad you guys like this light hearted fluff. And sorry about the late update. I've been ill. I'm still sick actually, which may explain this chapter.  
  
Warning: yaoi, Itachi OOC, cursing, rambling..  
  
Disclaimer: Naruto not mine.  
  
Notes: This is about where the story takes a turn left of center and goes into the huge mess that I've somehow gotten in my head that a SasuNaru romance is supposed to be.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 6  
  
If you asked me how I ended up sitting around Sasuke's kitchen table with a glass of juice and buttered toast in front of me, I wouldn't know what to say. Seriously, somehow, after getting my senses knocked for a loop with Itachi's rather flamboyant appearance, I was ushered off downstairs into the kitchen. I don't know what was said, I don't know how I had made my limbs function, but hey, here I am.  
  
Not that I was eating or anything, how can I with Sasuke staring death at me across the tiny table? And with Itachi sitting next to Sasuke, still wearing an outfit that would make a professional streetwalker blush, smiling at me and then at Sasuke in the most unholy way possible? Even if I wasn't so damned hungover, my stomach could not have taken anything.  
  
Of course, it occurred to me that if I didn't get home soon, Iruka would have plans to lock me in my room until I was eligible to vote, but I didn't honestly know what to say to have that happen. Sasuke had made it abundantly clear that driving me home would be as pleasant for him as laying in a field of centipedes butt-ass naked and Itachi hadn't forced his little brother to do it, so I was kind of stuck here.  
  
Uncomfortable, me? Bite your tongue..  
  
You know the phrase 'silent as a tomb'? That'd be now. You know the other phrase 'if I don't get out of here soon I'm going to bash my head into the table and hope for blissful unconsciousness?' Okay, the second one, probably not so familiar, but it's apt because I'm about to see which is sturdier, the table or my head.  
  
I so bet on my head.  
  
Anyway, fifteen minutes or five hundred years go by, I'm still at Sasuke's staring at the toast and the juice, when Itachi breaks the silence. I don't know whether or not I'm relieved at that, because honestly, Itachi is scaring me. It might be the outfit, because the last time he crossed his legs, he left no doubts in my mind as to his preference for underwear: none. If that's not enough to send my skin crawling off my frame and scrambling off to China, then I don't know what.  
  
So, what did Sasuke's brother say to break the awkward silence?  
  
"It's so good to see that Sasuke has friends."  
  
If doing a double take would not have taken my hurting head off my shoulders to roll under the fridge, I would have done so. What the hell was Itachi blabbering about? Sasuke is the most popular guy in school. He has friends he doesn't even know about.  
  
"He's not a friend." Thank you Sasuke for the clarification. "He's just a nuisance I picked up last night."  
  
My mind, if you haven't noticed, likes to swim in the sewers. Actually, I'm certain that it drowned in the sewers some time ago and has yet to resurface. Hence, my interpretation of Sasuke's sentence into something that resembled the movie 'Pretty Woman,' at least without the hookers and the women. The thought made me smile which Itachi caught and capitalized on like a greedy CEO on an embezzling bent.  
  
"Picked up you say?" Itachi stares at me intently, like he's checking me out. Oh god, I need a bucket so I can throw up. "You have good taste, little brother."  
  
A large bucket. Needless to say, I'm no longer smiling. Seriously, I may be thinking about Sasuke in all sorts of sexy ways, but Itachi did not have to voice them, especially in front of Sasuke!  
  
"Jesus, Itachi, can you for one second think outside of the gutters?"  
  
Sasuke sounded awfully angry there, and had I the faculties left for speech, I would have sounded my outrage as well. I mean, not that I mind the fact that Itachi thinks that Sasuke is interested in me, because hell, I'd give over my right nut-sac for that privilege, but damn it to hell, Itachi was totally ruining the non-existent relationship between my crush and me.  
  
"But it's so much fun to think like I do, Sasuke." Itachi shifts his vest so that it covers his chest a bit more and I thank the lord that he doesn't cross his legs again. "You need to relax a little. Besides, I complimented you on your choice of.. friend."  
  
The way Itachi said friend, might as well have said 'lover' or 'boyfriend' or hell, even 'fucktoy.' All would have worked fairly well there.  
  
Did I blush? Practically to the point of combustion. Did I want to sink through the floor, curl up into a fetal position and pretend I wasn't here listening to this conversation? Enough to start looking for a shovel. Did I even dare to look at Sasuke and incur his imminent wrath? No, I like breathing, as we have established before.  
  
Is it me, or have I collected a few people who want to kill me this morning?  
  
"Not a friend. It's just Naruto."  
  
Well, it's a talent Sasuke has, somehow getting coherent words out between clenched teeth.  
  
"Oh, Naruto. That's his name. Very cute."  
  
"He's not cute, he's not my friend, and why is he still here?"  
  
Truth be told, I have never heard Sasuke raise his voice before. At school, being the god that he is of the entire population, no one gives him the cause to yell. In fact, people apologize to him before he can even be angry, that's how much power he has. But here, in his home, he's being run over by his brother and getting forced into yelling. And at the center of all this intense ire is me, still haven't spoken a word since I got downstairs, still wanting to NOT be in this conversation crossfire, still fighting the nausea.  
  
"Oh, Sasuke, denial." All I can do at this point is hope that both of the Uchihas have forgotten that I'm still here, because if I have to respond to anything, I'm just going to run away screaming. "No one has ever slept in your bed except you."  
  
"So what?" Sasuke stands and sends the chair tipping onto the floor. My eyes widen at the sight of his flushed face and I can't help but think that he's pretty damned hot all fired up and angry. "I didn't have anywhere else to put him."  
  
"The couch, perhaps?" Man, snake oil peddlers had nothing on that smile Itachi just pulled off.  
  
"And risk you finding him and turning the situation into.. into.."  
  
Yeah, that'd be the rub, because despite all of Sasuke's efforts, look what the situation has become. At this point, Dali should give over his surrealism crown over to me.  
  
"If you're so bothered by this, just take him home, okay?"  
  
I second that motion. Please, just get me the hell out of here. Shit, I love Sasuke, being in his home is one of my dreams, but not like this! This is not.. I mean..  
  
Gah.  
  
No words, I tell you.  
  
"I don't know where he lives," Sasuke grouses as he puts his chair back and sits. Then he gives me a look that says if and when we're alone together, I will learn just what happened in the Spanish Inquisition through experience.  
  
"I'm sure he knows, Sasuke."  
  
"Fine. I'll drive the idiot home."  
  
Hooray, finally, something I can cheer about!  
  
"Take your time," Itachi purrs, and don't ask me how a grown man can do that, "I won't mind if you two decide to make out for a few hours."  
  
Do what?  
  
"Shut up, Itachi!"  
  
"Because, you know," Itachi completely ignores Sasuke yelling at him and my horrified face, "that kiss last night could not have been enough for either of you."  
  
THE WHAT?  
  
I know my jaw has fallen off my face. I just know it. Sasuke, for his part, is blushing hard enough to glow like a fire engine.  
  
"Oh, you don't remember, you poor thing." Itachi looks at me with mock pity and a toothy smile. "Didn't Sasuke tell you why he dropped you in our fish pond?"  
  
There was a why?  
  
"I mean, I could be wrong, because I was watching from the second floor balcony."  
  
"You watched?!?!?!?" That's Sasuke, outrage and embarrassment times ten thousand.  
  
"Of course! How could I miss my little brother's first kiss?"  
  
Again, THE WHAT?  
  
"Naruto, my dear, you gave my brother the hottest kiss I've seen this side of town. And believe me, I know hot kisses, I own the best drag bar ever, so I see lots of those."  
  
Holy motherfucking..  
  
"And I thought neither of you would come up for breath." If Itachi was an anime character, he'd have these stars dancing around him right now. "So sweet, so hot, then sploosh, you went into the pond because Sasuke dropped you."  
  
Okay. Panic, present. Shock, in residence. Embarrassment, strangely, not present. Last will and testament, running through my head.  
  
Sasuke is vibrating with.. oh, I don't know, anger and rage? I'm way too shocked by the revelations to really notice at this point.  
  
So, apparently, I kissed Sasuke last night. And according to Itachi, it went on for a while.  
  
And I don't remember a damned thing about it.  
  
I'm the unluckiest son of a bitch ever, because now I'm sure, God hates me.  
  
Even worse, Sasuke definitely hates me.  
  
--  
  
TBC  
  
-- 


	7. Chapter 7

Another day, another chapter.. I'm very happy to have received the reviews for the last chapter, they are always encouraging and good fodder for the muse. The muse, who has been sick with me for some time (yes, I'm still sick, avoiding the hospital by the mere skin of my teeth), but she's kicking back in thanks to everyone's support.  
  
Let's see if she came through okay, shall we?  
  
--  
  
Chapter 7  
  
Being alone with Sasuke, usually something I would dream incessantly about, but not this morning. Too many things have happened, some without my knowledge, for me to enjoy alone time with my crush.  
  
Right now, Sasuke is gripping the steering wheel of his car, you know, like if he loosened up, the damn thing was going to sprout wings and go airborne. Although, if that did happen, I would not be surprised at all – I'm beyond surprise now. I'm way beyond anything a human being could possibly feel at this point.  
  
After Itachi's oh so subtle retelling of last night's escapades (read that as the biggest and sorriest black hole of memory lapse ever on my part), Sasuke literally grabbed me and dragged me out to his car. I got shoved into it head first, as in, I now know what his floorboards taste like, and before I could even get properly seated, he had torn out of his driveway like Itachi was going to come after us with rice and confetti.  
  
He might have, who knows, I was a little busy trying to get my legs inside of the car.  
  
So here we are, Sasuke driving at speeds that Nascar drivers can't achieve, with me in the passenger side hoping like crazy that the seat belt isn't faulty towards a destination that could not be my house. Awkward silence? Sure. Tense atmosphere? Yep.  
  
I haven't said anything since I saw Itachi, and you know, I don't know if I should say anything now. Sasuke looks.. pissed? Maybe, more like mortified. He probably wants to drive out to some out of the way swamp and dump my body. Not that I blame him, hell, I kissed the guy for the love of god, didn't I?  
  
Half of me is quite sorry that I did, because that one act assured that Sasuke will hate me for the rest of his life (or the rest of my life, which is looking really short right now). The other half is fucking pissed, because I can't remember what possibly could have been the best thing ever! That's right, I'm so unlucky and the gods hate me so much that I can't even recall feeling his ridiculously hot lips against mine.  
  
Man, whoever the hell said you remember your first kiss until the day you die apparently never considered the possibility that it could happen during a drunken black out. Asshole.  
  
Twenty minutes of aimless driving later, in a neighborhood that is not at all familiar to me, I wonder if I should say something. Like tell Sasuke that I don't live in this area, or that I really have to get home before Iruka finds out that I didn't spend the night at Gaara's. But see, my tongue, like my emotions, are frozen, and can't seem to say anything at all.  
  
That's not to say I don't have questions buzzing around in my head like flies around a rotten piece of meat. For instance, I'd love to ask 'did you enjoy the kiss,' but my self preservation units prevent me from doing so. Then there is the ever popular 'was there tongue involved,' but I have a feeling that one will be as well received as the first question. You see, I can't get my mind off the kiss that I couldn't even remember and I wanted details, damn it. If I was going to die from doing something my brain obviously could not recall, might as well get the dirty and sexy details, you know?  
  
My head went on a random trip, much like this drive, and eventually, something did pop out of my mouth. Safe to say, it wasn't diplomatic in any sense and I wonder sometimes if I'm missing that vital nerve that connects my brain to anything speech related.  
  
"So," I said, "it was your first kiss?"  
  
See? I either have a set of brass lined diamond balls or I'm stinking stupid.  
  
Soon as I said it, Sasuke swerved and hit the brakes hard, jerking me against the seat belt and giving me a hell of a whiplash. Okay, whiplash added to the shock of this morning on top of my hangover, let's just say Sasuke's damned lucky I didn't reupholster his car with the acid swimming around in my tummy.  
  
"Don't ever talk about that," Sasuke hissed at me as I was trying to figure out if all my internal organs were where they were supposed to be. "You mention it again, I will kill you."  
  
What else is new?  
  
"Yeah, whatever," I mutter, all my effort on keeping my liver from crawling up my esophagus, "you gotta get in line anyway. After Gaara's done with me, all you'll get to do is kick around my corpse a little."  
  
We sat in the car for a while, the engine idling and random vehicles of the soccer mom variety whizzing by once in a while (where the hell were we anyways?). I had given up on getting home in time to avoid Iruka's wrath, my best friend was probably planning on disemboweling me with a shrimp fork and my crush, seated next to me looking hot as ever, most likely was thinking he hated me with everything he had.  
  
As you can see, I no longer have any reasons to fear death.  
  
"Why did you do it?"  
  
Was it me or did Sasuke actually ask me that? Didn't he say he'd kill me if I ever brought it up again? So, why was he bringing it up, did he want to discuss it as much as I did, did he like it to some degree, am I delusional, what?  
  
I look askance at Sasuke, just to make sure that I wasn't hearing shit, because come on, still hungover and aural hallucinations do happen under severe stress, but well, he really must've said it. I mean, he's staring at me like I should be answering.  
  
"I don't know," I lie completely straight-faced, no way I'm saying I did it most likely because I love him, "I don't even know that it happened. You know, if you don't remember, it didn't happen.."  
  
"Isn't that good for you?" Hm, Sasuke isn't all that happy with my answer. I wonder why that is. "You might be lucky enough for a black out, but I'm not. Now I have to live with that.. memory."  
  
Man, did he ever know how to hurt a guy's feelings! "Look, Sasuke, I'm sure I was too drunk to even know what or who I was doing, okay?"  
  
Sasuke splutters and flexes his fingers, kind of like he's going to lunge and shake me until my eyeballs rattle out of my head. What am I saying, at this point, I should just save everyone who wants to off me a favor and commit ritual suicide. Nothing is working out the way it's supposed to. I swear, I had a plan, but that went to hell in a lovely hand-basket.  
  
"Just.." Sasuke pauses to take a much needed breath, he was turning all the possible shades of purple there for a minute, "never, ever mention what happened. Don't ever tell anyone about Itachi, he does not exist. If I even hear a hint of this ever again.."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, you'll kill me, probably in a cruel and unusual way, blah blah, I get it."  
  
After that, he put the car back in gear and we were off again, this time, towards my house because he actually deigned to ask me where I lived. After twenty minutes, we were in front of my house, a white and beige two bedroom deal with a small yard in the front, no fish pond, thank you.  
  
"Thanks for driving me home," I say, after all, I can be polite, "and sorry about all the trouble."  
  
He, of course, says nothing, but I didn't expect him to reply in any fashion, so with a shrug and a disappointed lurch in my heart, I got out and closed the door, girding up my loins for an Iruka filled doom. I was so busy pondering what my guardian would do to me that I almost missed Sasuke's low whisper filter through the slightly open window.  
  
"Why did you have to taste like strawberries and pine?"  
  
Then before I could react, he took off, nearly taking my arm with him which had lingered too closely to the handle of the door.  
  
Well. If that don't beat all. It almost sounded like Sasuke didn't hate me, but hell, since everything is so damned loony, who am I to judge?  
  
--  
  
TBC 


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews and wishes for my eventual recovery. I'm almost better now, no longer fighting the viral forces so much. Here's the next chapter, let's see if my drugs were loopy enough, shall we?  
  
Oh, as a side note to La/=/er (I hope that's right) who asked, yes, I am the same 0083 from the gundam wing 1x2x1 fandom. Thanks for reading!  
  
Disclaimer: Naruto, not mine. This twisted story, mine.  
  
Warnings: language, weirdness and rambling.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 8  
  
There exists in the universe many questions without answers, like, what is the meaning of life, is there an afterlife, why do girls get crazier the older they get. In my world, though, there is only one unanswerable question, and that is, what the hell does pine taste like?  
  
I don't know if Sasuke meant for me to hear his, uh.. confession? Insane mutterings? Whatever it was, it stuck in my head for the entire weekend. The weekend, after the whole fiasco, did go better, but I wasn't able to appreciate it fully because of the damned question of pine's taste. See, Iruka didn't ground me, hell, he wasn't even home when I staggered into the house smelling like week old fish garbage and looking as wrinkled as a ninety year old prune. Can you believe it, after almost getting a bleeding ulcer for all my worries about what the hell I should tell Iruka, he hadn't even had the courtesy to be home when I got there. Instead, he had left a note saying people at work had called him in for an early emergency (he's a computer tech, what the hell could be so damned urgent?), hope I got home okay, why don't I eat the leftovers in the fridge and mow the lawn.  
  
Some might say I'm lucky that Iruka hadn't been home, and I'd agree with them, don't get me wrong there, but I was still bitter that I had to worry about something I had no need to worry about. You follow my logic there? Was there logic there? Anyway, so, no incidents with my guardian later, I was left to ponder Sasuke's rather mysterious, intriguing and mind boggling statement.  
  
Strawberries, I know the taste. I like them, I've eaten them, and on one occasion, I rubbed it all over my body. Okay, that was a dare from Gaara, one that I will never do again, there are some places on the body that strawberry seeds take forever to get out (I mean teeth, you perverts). But pine? What the hell does that taste like? It's not like I had the occasion to gnaw on the tree or anything.  
  
Even I have limits as to my behavioral strangeness, you get me?  
  
So on Monday, less stressed, not grounded and still pondering Sasuke, I went to school in a bit of a daze. I went through the motions of attending classes, stared thoroughly at Sasuke who in turn pretended that I did not exist, and finally ended up in lunch sitting with Gaara who had finally managed to get my art off of his body.  
  
Oh yeah, Gaara forgave me, did I mention that? It happened on Sunday when I went over to his house to apologize (without body armor, I'm not too bright). I knew I was forgiven when he greeted me at the door instead of the butler. How did I know? His eyes were glazed over and he had the goofiest smile I'd ever seen on him. It was.. interesting and creepifying at the same time.  
  
Apparently, he had resorted to using turpentine to get the shit off him just before I made my grand entrance and the fumes from that toxic chemical had made him ultra, super high, giving him a sense of peace and a very forgiving nature. So yeah, he forgave me, then drooled on my shoulder while he babbled out the secret to the universe that he had discovered within the confines of his bathroom and then thrashed me on a video game.  
  
Even high as a kite, Gaara can kick ass. But whatever, I'm not going to resent it, he forgave me and I didn't even have to sacrifice my dignity or my vital organs to earn it. Yet another instance of luck in my weekend that started off so fucked up.  
  
Okay, enough of that tangent, where was I? In lunch, yes. Anyway, Gaara looked at me, sighed and whapped me upside of my head.  
  
"What is the matter with you?" He inquired so very nicely as I felt around my head for permanent injuries. "You're spaced out, more than usual. Still lusting after Sakura?"  
  
"Can't you get your point across without physical violence?"  
  
"Why would I do that?" Gah, he really looks puzzled about that. Such is my lot in life, having a best friend who loves inflicting pain.  
  
"Oh, nevermind." I can't help but grouse, but then again, it's not Gaara's fault that he thinks the solution to every problem lies within mayhem. He did have a twisted childhood and his family life isn't exactly conducive to puppy fuzzy feelings, so it's not like he knows any better despite me telling him otherwise time to time. Then again, I sometimes agree with him, but not when I'm the victim, kind of biased, you know?  
  
"Just spit out what's bothering you before I lose my appetite, okay?"  
  
If anyone other than Gaara had said that, it would sound really insulting, but this is Gaara. For him to have said that, it amounted to 'I'm really worried about you, why don't we talk about it and figure out a solution.' Nearly three years of friendship later, I got a damn good grip on translating Gaara speak into polite and acceptable language.  
  
"Fine, Gaara, I'll ask you for some help," I say, after wondering if I should really say anything at all. "Think you can tell me what pine tastes like?"  
  
I can tell that he had not expected me to say that by the way he's staring at me with that 'what was that?' look on his face. Ah well, I'm not going to explain the background to him, not only do I not think he'd believe me, Sasuke would most definitely turn me into mincemeat.  
  
"Pine?" Gaara inches closer to me, his voice dropping several decibels. "Like, as in, the tree? As in, what my third living room's coffee table is made of? That pine?"  
  
Well, duh. "Is there some other kind?"  
  
"Have you been smoking the crack when I'm not watching?"  
  
As far as he knows, that could have happened. It would explain a lot, actually. Hell, being in love is much like smoking crack, I suppose, both turn your brain into tapioca pudding, make you behave like a masochistic idiot and then make people around you worry.  
  
"No, there is no crack smoking." My life would be easier if there was, though. "Just stop the smart ass stuff and answer, would you?" Geez, didn't Gaara know how important this question was? No, he didn't, but that doesn't mean I can't blame him for trivializing something so damned..  
  
Okay, I realize I'm a total lunatic, shut up about it.  
  
"Pine, you say?" He thinks on it for a second, his fingers thoughtfully rubbing at his chin. "I don't rightly know. Have you tried to gargle with floor cleaners? I hear some are piney."  
  
Oh, you gotta be kidding me, what the hell was I thinking asking Gaara?  
  
"Or," shit, he's not done, "suck on one of those car fresheners? Oh wait, there is a spray of pine scented Lysol at my house. Want to come over after school and have me spray some onto your tongue?"  
  
"Gaara, is there a suggestion that won't poison me in any way?"  
  
"I'm sure there are," he nods sagely and seriously, though his lips are suspiciously tilting into a smirk, "but what fun will there be for me?"  
  
Did he really forgive me or did he just pretend so that he could torture me in the name of advice and friendship?  
  
"Gaara," I sigh, my head sinking onto the table between my sandwich and juice box, "just what the hell is your definition of helping?"  
  
"Giving you solutions to your obviously serious question while making sure each solution has the hilarious side effect of some form of injury."  
  
Good god, that answer came too quickly, like he's been thinking about it for a while.  
  
"Are we really best friends?" That's all I can say as I give him a look that should kill him if my eyes could should lasers.  
  
"Of course," he says without hesitation, "otherwise, I wouldn't take the effort to think of these things for you." Well, that's twisted, but we are talking about Gaara here. "My abuse of you only shows how much I care."  
  
I can't help but laugh at that. "You are seriously insane."  
  
He nods and laughs with me. "And you are severely retarded."  
  
We laugh together for a while and I feel better. Gaara and my friendship, it isn't about crazy sweet words or hugs, it's about expressing ourselves without facades. There it is in a nutshell, I suppose.  
  
When we finally stop laughing, I shake my head at him, give him the one fingered salute of love and devotion, and go back to my lunch. However, as I bite the sandwich, my eyes gravitate to Sasuke at the far end of the cafeteria and lo and behold, my eyes meet his very dark, very sexy eyes.  
  
He's looking at me.  
  
I nearly choke on the sandwich, and by the time I recover with a bit of coughing and clawing for air, Sasuke is no longer looking at me and if I hadn't been so damned flustered, I would've thought I imagined the whole thing.  
  
Wow, Sasuke looked at me. And it was no accident, he had to crane his body like a hundred eighty degrees to do that.  
  
Strange, yet very awesome. I glowed, I know it, Gaara probably felt the force of it, but nothing got said because I finished eating just as the bell rang and hustled myself out of there before Gaara could inquire about my near death experience with the sandwich.  
  
I suppose I was a bit floaty, Sasuke had looked at me, that was a big improvement from the complete ignoring of me that had occurred in the classes. So it's no wonder that I was taken by surprise when Kakashi, the weirdo guidance counselor, walked up to me, snagged me by the arm and dragged me into his office.  
  
In a surprise daze, I looked at the surroundings of Kakashi's office while he settled himself behind his desk, steepled his fingers and stared at me with his one eye. What the hell was going on now?  
  
Without much of a preamble, Kakashi spoke.  
  
"So, why don't you let me help you? It isn't easy being gay in high school."  
  
Huh.  
  
That just kicked the ass off my face.  
  
Speechless, me? Holy shit, yes.  
  
--  
  
TBC 


	9. Chapter 9

Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews. You guys sure know how to brighten up someone's day. Well, here's the answer to the cliffhanger (of sorts) from last chapter. I hope this doesn't get me threatened.. Just remember, I'm twisted, severely so.  
  
Oh, and there won't be an update for a while – I'm moving 3000 miles this weekend and I have to get settled. So, don't worry, I'm not going to abandon this story or the other one, I just won't be able to write or update what with the move, getting used to my new job, etc.  
  
Anyway, here it is.  
  
Warning: characters are entirely OOC. Language can get rough.  
  
--  
  
Chapter 9  
  
I previously thought that Kakashi was just a weirdo who had a horrendous love affair with internet porn. I changed my mind in a split second – now, Kakashi is a porn obsessed weirdo with telepathic mind powers that will one day fend off the alien invaders and save the world.  
  
After checking my run like hell impulse, I sat there and thought as Kakashi thoroughly (not to mention really intently) looked at me. How the hell had he known about.. Did it show or something? Was there a sign on my head in neon lights flashing saying 'blonde boy here, totally into hot, sexy guy named Sasuke'? Had I said something inadvertent that he had overheard?  
  
Did anyone else know? Did everyone know? Was my walk out of his office going to be my walk out of the closet?  
  
Yeah, I panicked and perhaps, hyperventilated a bit. I mean, who the hell wouldn't?  
  
"Are you okay?" Kakashi says, his voice a bit muffled through the mask but still coherent, "do you need water? Oxygen tank? A sedative?"  
  
What I could use is a large bazooka so that I can take out the only person (oh god, I hope) who knows about my sexuality other than me. Not that I think Kakashi would talk to my peers about me being interested in another boy or that he'd paste the halls with flyers about it or anything, but damn it, not even my best friend knows! It's something that I'm just not prepared for others to know about me.  
  
When all I do is breathe like an asthmatic, Kakashi nods like he knows what I'm going through, the condescending all knowing bastard, and continues to speak.  
  
"I realize that you think you're alone and that no one would understand." Damn straight, this is high school, not San Francisco. "But know that I'm here for you and that I'll help you in any way I can." How will he help? Is he going to suddenly make being gay in high school acceptable and peachy, kind of like the token gay guy in every sitcom these days?  
  
"The first step is admitting it, of course." Wow, now there is a twelve step program for being gay. "Never be ashamed of who you are." Well, admittedly, that is pretty good advice, something I'd never expect from Kakashi, but it's not a problem of shame, it's a problem of survival, damn it.  
  
"I.." My mouth finally receives some kind of synaptic response from the brain. "I mean.. How.." Okay, perhaps, not so much.  
  
"I'm not as clueless as you all think." I see a shadow of a smirk underneath that mask of his as he opens a file in front of him and thumbs through it carefully. "I have all your information here, but that's just on paper. I need to know about you to help you." Damn, when the hell did I fall into the world of after school specials? "So, tell me what's on your mind, Lee."  
  
"You know.." I begin, not knowing where this is going to end, "I mean, the thing is.." Wait a fucking minute. "What did you say?"  
  
"Gay."  
  
"No, after that."  
  
"In denial?"  
  
"No, after that."  
  
"Hm." He ponders and my mind races. Something wasn't right here, besides me and the weirdo that is. "Lee?"  
  
That's it. That's what's very wrong. "Why did you call me that?"  
  
"That is your name," he says matter-of-factly, "Rock Lee, senior, martial arts club, average student and quite gay, flaming like an erupting volcano."  
  
Okay, except that gay part, the rest of it is definitely, absolutely not me.  
  
"I'm Naruto."  
  
"No you aren't."  
  
"Yes," I think I know this one. "I am. Uzumaki Naruto, junior, no clubs, hardly comes to school, we met last week, remember?"  
  
"We did?" Again, I change my mind about Kakashi. Right now, I peg him as a porn addicted weirdo who has as many memory cells as a pot smoking granny whose powers of deduction would make Sherlock Holmes reach for a lethal dose of morphine.  
  
"You called me in last week," I say, my voice surprisingly steady now, "and you called me by name."  
  
"Okay, I suppose I might have." From the look on his face, he supposed nothing of the sort. "My mistake, uh.. hmm.."  
  
"Naruto." Damn jerk, can't even remember my name after giving me a massive stroke.  
  
"Right. Off you go then."  
  
I get up, give him a look that I hope is penetrating and accusing, suppress the righteous urge to flip him off and saunter out. I've had it today, really. First Gaara, now Kakashi. I don't want to exactly stick around school to see what else could happen to me, who knows, at this rate, I might end up in a ditch somewhere.  
  
I shut the door behind me, breathing a sigh of relief that Kakashi had no idea that I was gay, he didn't even know my name the bastard, and decide to cut the rest of the day. I was planning on it, really. I had already started sprinting towards the exit, my bag in tow, when a brilliant (or it seemed) thought occurred to me.  
  
This Rock Lee.. Well, Kakashi might be an insane idiot rivaling one of Faulkner's greatest hits, but maybe he was right. Maybe, this kid, Lee, was gay and that meant I could perhaps have an ally or an understanding ear or something. Maybe, just maybe, I could find someone like me.  
  
With that in mind, I decided to see if I could find this kid. Kakashi had said martial arts club and I think they meet after school in one of those music rooms. You know, they need the space to kick and grunt and stuff. What's the harm in trying to meet him, right?  
  
I got to stop tempting fate with shit like that, but hey, as I have learned, I'm not exactly the sharpest knife in the murder kit. In fact, I might be a spork.  
  
So yeah, awesome idea of ally in mind, I stuck around, told Gaara I didn't need a ride home, and searched around school for this guy, Rock Lee. It might have helped if I knew what he looked like, but hey, I never let little things like that hinder my plans. I wandered, walked in on the cheerleaders in one room giggling and trying to spell 'Go Team' without vowels, whizzed past the marching band practice that sounded like a pack of hyenas giving birth and finally, found the martial arts club room.  
  
By the time I found it, practice seemed to be over. People were walking out all sweaty, waving at each other as they shouldered their packs and towels. I wondered, who among these smelly guys was Rock Lee? Should I ask or just try to tell who he was using my psychic powers?  
  
Yeah, asking is my only option.  
  
But, I never got the chance, no one gave me the time of day as they walked past me like I was part of the wall fixture and by the time I had gotten angry enough to stop someone by standing in their way, I realized that there was only two people in the room left.  
  
The first one was the guy I had stopped so rudely by blocking his path – that'd be Sasuke. Yeah, my hottie, Sasuke was in the martial arts club. Who knew? Probably everyone, except me. He stared at me, his jaw worked like he wanted to say something and I damn near forgot why I was there in the first place.  
  
"Hey, Sasuke," I heard the other guy in the room say, "good practice today."  
  
Sasuke doesn't take his eyes off me, but does answer the guy.  
  
"No problem. See you tomorrow, Lee."  
  
Is this two birds with one stone? I get to ogle Sasuke and find Rock Lee, all in the same afternoon by a stroke of luck that I had thought long ago abandoned me.  
  
I drop out of my Sasuke induced trance and look over his shoulder.  
  
And my jaw freaking drops.  
  
Rock Lee. That guy is Rock Lee? He's.. I mean.. his hair cut is a bowl. Literally, someone put a bowl over this poor kid's head and trimmed around it using a weed whacker. Then there were the eyebrows. I'm like.. what, fifteen feet away and I could see his eyebrows! They were huge, linear things on the verge of taking over his face and claiming it as Eyebrownia.  
  
This kid is the gay kid?  
  
"Move." Damn, I was so lost in the horror of the eyebrow empire that I actually forgot about Sasuke for a second. "Or do I have to make you?"  
  
Pleasant as ever, eh, love of my life?  
  
"Sorry Sasuke," I say, my eyes flitting between his excessively gorgeous face and Lee's face that should grace Madame Trousseau's hallway. "I.. that is.."  
  
"Do you need a ride again?" He says and then to my utter, heart stopping surprise, smiles at me. Not a smirk, not an evil 'I'm about to filet you and feed you to my fishes' smile, but a real one.  
  
"Uh.. Sure?" Not much else I can say, not when my brain has deserted me in the face of too much information.  
  
"Okay." For a moment here, my heart lifts. Sasuke was going to give me a ride home voluntarily! Then.. "Good luck finding one."  
  
With that, Sasuke laughs and walks by me, his shoulders shaking and his face buried in his hand. Why that jerk.. geh, I'm not angry or anything. Hell, I'm not even surprised.  
  
And well, it was kind of funny, definitely something I would do to Gaara had I a car and a license. Now that I think about it, Gaara has done much worse to me. Like the time he kept driving forward a few feet as I tried to get in until I literally had chased the car door a mile.  
  
But I digress. I'm here for a reason, Sasuke was a tasty bonus, but reason I'm here is standing in the room still.  
  
Scary eyebrow boy, Rock Lee, who is possibly gay. Okay.  
  
"Hi," I say as I hesitatingly step into the room, "are you Rock Lee?"  
  
"Yes, I am." His voice is like the overlords of his face (eyebrows), surprising and noticeable. "You are?"  
  
Belatedly, as I get closer to him, I realize there is more to shock me than just the facial hair. He's wearing all green, it's sticking to him indecently, not because it's sweaty, but because it's entirely spandex.  
  
He's fucking wearing a unitard. And.. leg warmers? What the hell?  
  
"Naruto." That was a froggy croak in the back of my throat. "I.. uh.. that is.."  
  
"Yes?" He wipes his face with the towel, drawing my attention away from his fashion crime. Thank god.  
  
"I heard you were.. Are you.." Now that I'm here, I have no idea what to say. Really, I should have written this out before I did this, not like I can say, 'hey, our guidance counselor somehow mistook me for you, and said you were gay. So are you?'  
  
That brings me to yet another point. How the fucking hell had Kakashi mistaken me, a blond, blue eyed kid with normal eyebrows for him, a dark haired, dark eyed guy who wears a leotard and is in need of waxing?  
  
Maybe Kakashi's one eye is just for show?  
  
"I'm what?" He tilts his head at me, probably puzzled as hell. I'm not all that clear on this myself, so he must be terribly confused.  
  
"Uh, that is. I guess.. just something I heard, don't take it the wrong way, it's not like I think it's true," how many more disclaimers can I lay down before the warranty expires here? "I mean.. are you gay?"  
  
That last part, I said it so fast that only superhuman hearing could decipher it. By that logic, Lee must be on the path to superherodom. That could explain the leotard.  
  
"Good god, I'm not gay!" He explodes, his eyes literally lighting up like roaring bonfires. "I've had it with people telling me that! I mean, just because I like wearing a leotard does not make me a homosexual! I do it for aerodynamics, damn it! It's easier to move in it, execute complicated katas with it and hell, Mr. Gai wears it and no one calls him gay!!!"  
  
Oh shit.. I see an ass-kicking coming my way. Better run while he's still busy ranting.  
  
"How many times do I have to say it?" Lee continues, his pose reminiscent of Bruce Lee at his manliest while wearing a leotard, "I like girls! I love them! I like the boobs, the hairless legs! I love vagina!!"  
  
Wow, the kid is losing it. I run like hell, but I hear his voice until I'm well in the middle of the parking lot.  
  
"I love Sakura, I do! She is the most beautiful woman ever, sexy and lovely! She will be mine one day! Does that sound gay to you? Does it?"  
  
Hell. That went about as well as a political discussion between Arab nations. I got to stop following my hair brained impulses, it's gonna get me killed one day.  
  
Sighing heavily, I stop running and trudge towards home. Today was yet another insane day, filled with events that I would not believe were real had they not happened to me. But I'm getting used to these loony days, and soon, I'm not going to even know what a normal day is supposed to be like.  
  
Let's take stock of today. Gaara suggested numerous ways to poison me, Kakashi mistook me for Lee and told me I was gay (correct assumption, wrong guy, asshole), Sasuke smiled at me and ditched me cheerfully and finally, I accused Lee of being gay and made him go off the deep end.  
  
Good gracious, I'm like a vortex of trouble. I can't wait until tomorrow, my life has never been this exciting.  
  
--  
  
TBC 


	10. Chapter 10

So yes, it has been a long while. My muse, my sense of humor, my gender has changed. Okay, not gender. But still, if this works, I'll see if I can go along for a little while longer. If not, well, that was that... In the least, I hope this is okay.

Chapter 10

Someone somewhere once said that life is short, so we must all live as if each moment was our last. I suppose that means that I'm supposed to live an exciting, extraordinary, fun life – the kind you can write about when you're ninety and breathing and eating out of a tube. Well, the way my life has been going lately, I don't want to live that life. I long for a quiet, normal, boring existence where I can relax for a goddamned minute.

See, lately, everything has been way too exciting. My best friend has probably put out a contract for my life for all the stuff I did to him. My crush, the sexy but tundra cold Sasuke, thinks I'm about as awesome as having a blistering case of herpes. The entire school has been laughing at me, because of the most colossal misunderstanding of this millennium. But more than all those combined, I am being stalked. That's right. Stalked. By two dudes.

Let me explain.

Dude number one hot on my tail is Lee. Rock Lee of the terrifying facial hair has been chasing me through the hallways in what he probably thinks is in a discrete fashion. I don't think that guy understands the meaning of the word 'subtle.' How successful are you as a stalker if your prey notices every single time you're there? I see him as I'm walking to class. I see him pretending to admire the water fountain as I scurry past him. These things could all be considered weird and creepy coincidences if it weren't for the fact that I see him every time I go to take a piss. Take that fact, digest it, and vomit profusely.

Doesn't Lee comprehend the unwritten rules of the public toilet? One, you do not, under any fucking circumstances, take the urinal next to another guy! I mean, the bathroom would be empty, except for me and Lee, and he will invariably and inevitably take the open urinal right next to me. Then he'd whip it out, just like that, and let it go, while I'm trying desperately to look at the interesting mold stain in the corner and not pee all over my shoes and the floor.

Two, as important if not as apparent as rule one, is that you do not try to talk to the dude next to you as he is tending to his business. So, of course, as I'm standing there, my dick in my hand, he tries to strike up a conversation. I swear to all the gods in heaven and hell, that if I had the ability, I'd stop peeing in mid-stream and run the hell out of the bathroom, but unfortunately, I'm just not built that way. So for two weeks (Jesus, I tried not to piss at school anymore, but I just can't hold the shit in, no pun intended), I had to endure Lee standing next to me in the boy's room, asking me if I thought it might rain later, what did I think of the latest episode of god-knows-what-awful-reality-show, do I think Angelina Jolie's boobs are slamming (exact quote there, much to my shuddering chagrin).

So yeah, stress. Lots of stress. Enough to give me an ulcer and make Gaara hand me a bottle of Percoset (where the fuck did he acquire this?). Enough so that Iruka suggested that I take a day off school and relax – Iruka, my strict guardian who threatened to ship me off to a third world country if I ever skipped school without dying from Influenza strain B. Their concern was touching, but I couldn't tell them what was screwing my head. The explanation would be bizarre and in the end, I'd have to confess that I'm in love with a boy. That is not really an option now, or really, ever, if I have my way.

So two weeks of Lee, you'd think the powers that be would sympathize with my plight and cut me some fucking slack, but no. Apparently, I don't suffer enough, not at all, so they gave me stalker number two. His name?

Hatake Kakashi.

He's likely been stalking me longer than Lee, but he's familiar with the concept of subtle. I think he's had extensive experience in stalking – either that, or he was trained by the CIA. Anyhow, the only reason I noticed that he was after my (awesome) ass was through pure accident. I had just run out of the bathroom on the second floor after Lee had invaded my private space and began a lecture on the joys of being young and filled with various and sexful hormones, and smashed right into Kakashi.

No way in hell that he was just walking by, or even loitering aimlessly as he was wont to do. No. That'd be just.. I mean, what kind of a pervert hangs out in front of the boy's room in a fucking high school? The kind that need to go to jail and get special treatment from an inmate by the name of Jim-Bob who likes to lift weights and rub his junk into your ass!

Anyway, off topic, let us get back to the story at hand. So yeah, I ran into Kakashi after running, I mean, sauntering off with all sorts of dignity, away from Lee. My nose smooshed into his chest and when I looked up, his eyes crinkled into a smile, the kind you only see if you've turned on the wrong channel at two in the morning.

"Naruto, right?" He began, his voice laced with glee and terrifying anticipation, "find anything.. worth your time in the boy's room?"

I just gaped. My jaw separated from my body and thudded into the damned floor. How am I supposed to answer that shit?

"I've done some research on you since our last meeting," he continued blithely, ignoring my state of absolute horror, " and I apologize for thinking you were someone else."

I was hoping that he had forgotten about me, but no, why would I be that lucky?

Wait, research?

"You are an interesting person all around. People like you make be glad I chose my profession."

Kakashi should just shut the hell up and let me slither away in shock and shame, but that would be just too good for my sanity. So he continued on, and I stood frozen before him, much like a mouse contemplating its final moments before a vicious and venom dripping cobra.

"You're so complex, and yet, so simple." I could see Kakashi's single eye glowing, as if he had found the Fountain of Youth occupied by a bevy of porn stars. "I want to help you become comfortable in your skin, as a man, as a gay-"

That's when I shrieked like the girl I am not and high-tailed it, because come on, who the fuck would let him finish that sentence in a hallway filled with people? People who have the facilities of the five senses – hell, fuck the five senses, just the one would ruin me!

Since then, I've been rather twitchy, and Kakashi was everywhere. If Lee had stressed me out by following me and breaking the rules of the bathroom, Kakashi just overrode all the rules of human interaction and drove me into becoming a drooling, paranoid sack of nerves. I was so damned vigilant of his stalking (and to a lesser part, Lee's, but he was so fucking obvious), that I didn't even get to enjoy Sasuke viewing like usual. In fact, I actually stuttered past him one day and didn't notice his presence until he bumped into me and raised his erotic eyebrow (yeah, he can do the erotic eyebrow, wanna fight about it?) at me.

So, you must see what I mean about wanting a less exciting life. Too much of this 'live as if you're gonna die in five minutes', and you really will. Or at least, suicide becomes so attractive that you start wondering why the hell it's the worst sin in the religious world.

I really thought two guys stalking me for a reason I could not fathom was as worst as it could get, besides everyone finding out that I had the hots for Sasuke and lynching me. I really did, but I'm an idiot, so how could I have known something god-fucking-awful was just around the corner?

Because, after a month of this shit, of Kakashi and Lee, of Gaara and Sasuke, I met a nightmare that turned my world from frenzied crazy into frightening psychosis.

I met Hyuuga Neji.


	11. Chapter 11

I'm very happy there are people still reading. It makes me tingly. Just to let you know, I don't really proofread nor do I have a beta, so mistakes are bound to happen. I apologize in advance. Here's chapter the next, let's get this moving, shall we?

Chapter 11

Gaara is my best friend for a reason, but that reason eludes me right now. Because right now, at this exact damned moment, he is on the floor of his bedroom, pounding his fists into the thick, Persian carpet, laughing at me so hard that tears are flowing down his cheeks. Mind you, I've only seen Gaara cry once before, and that was because I opened the door into his crotch. There were tears then, along with a few whimpering sounds that only dogs could hear, and after his recovery, after my sincerest and most abject apologies, after he purportedly forgave me, the jackass cockpunched me. More tears ensued, from me that time, and it lasted a hell lot longer than Gaara's crying. All that just to show you that every time Gaara cries, I suffer great pains and humiliation.

Only right now, as his joyful tears are mocking me, I'm thinking that I'd trade this moment for a hundred punches to my junk drawer, because this is not cool. Scratch that. This is hideous, awful, dreadful, fucked up.

This that I'm talking about, this is the fact that right now, I, Uzumaki Naruto, am in a cute little sweater and skirt uniform of St. Gabriel's School for Girls.

Damn it, I'm gay, not a crossdresser!

Gaara won't stop laughing and I can't kick the shit out of him in this ensemble because my stupid boxers made the skirt not fit, so I had to go commando. And let me tell you, going swinging free in the basement is fucking drafty in a skirt and my family jewels are feeling very, very vulnerable to the elements and any intrepid feline wanting a batting toy.

Why am I in this outfit with no underpants, you wonder? Two words explain all – Hyuuga Neji.

If it's possible to hate someone to death, it would apply to my feelings for Neji the mega-titanic asshole.

I mean, what kind of a sadist forces a guy into girl's clothes? I don't care that he thinks he has good reasons for this, I don't care if my cross-dressing can stop a meteor from crashing into the earth and save every living creature on this ball of dirt. All I know is that I'm in a skirt, Gaara has enough blackmail material to make me his personal slave for the rest of my life (and any reincarnations thereafter, damn it), and that Neji is a.. there is no word harsh enough to describe him. None. Maybe something in German, because in that language, saying 'I love you' sounds like 'I will now molest you mercilessly, pitiful virgin.'

Whatever, anyhow, et cetera.. where was I? Oh yes, why I'm in a goddamned skirt. Neji. Right.

After fleeing from Kakashi who had hunted me down through three separate floors of my damned school, I literally mowed Hyuuga Neji down in the student parking lot as I was seeking Gaara for a safe house and a ride. He was just hanging around at the edges of the lot, his long, hippie hair flowing in the wind like they do in romantic movies during a slo-mo capture of the protagonist, his arms crossed all seriously and his mouth in a thinking pout. If I had not the biggest tongue dripping crush on Sasuke, I might have thought him kind of okay attractive, but unfortunately, he started to speak.

"You are Naruto, am I right?"

Why the hell have I been so popular lately? This is not the kind of popular I need to get Sasuke to notice me, damn it!

"So what if I am?" I queried all sorts of surly, I've been stressed lately, don't you know.

"If you are," said he of the long hair and albino complexion, "I am Hyuuga Neji." Like I should have known by telepathy? "You will do me a favor."

Well, that's pretty damned gutsy, I did admit to myself.

"Favor?" I echoed, because what else is there to say after such a bold and stupid statement?

"You will dress in this," Neji stated, as he held up the accursed girl's uniform wrapped in neat laundry cleaned plastic bag, "and tell me if my cousin is attracted to someone and if she is, who he is."

Let's just say that I did not respond well to his ballsy request nor did he pull any punches as he steadfastly extorted me into accepting his incredibly inconsiderate.. uh.. petition?

Yeah, we'll go with petition, because anything else would just undermine my sense of self as a human being.

"What the hell does dressing like a chick have to do with that?"

Perhaps not the first thing I should have asked, but I could not process this interaction in a logical fashion. After all, it's not every day that someone you've never met shows up out of the blue and commands you to go drag.

"There is a volleyball match between St. Gabriel's and your school this Saturday." Neji said, waving the offending clothes in front of my glazed-over eyes, "you will infiltrate the girl's locker room at St. Gabriel's, listen to my cousin and her friends as they discuss her interest, find out his name, so that I may pulverize him."

Well, if that's isn't a noble and highly chauvinistic goal. Neji must not have gotten the note that we passed the nineteenth century a while back.

"I think I can sneak into the girl's locker room without dressing in that," I nodded my head at the uniform, "and besides, there's no way in hell I'm doing this favor for you anyway, so later."

I turned and started walking away, because really, I don't need this extra bit of weirdness, but then the extortion began.

"If you do not perform this favor in its exact specifications," Neji announced like he was reading off the grocery list instead of trying to ruin someone's reputation, "I will spread photos of you in compromising positions."

I stopped, turned my head, and said "Go on. It might actually help me out in this nuthouse." Like I'm going to fall for that. I have more self-respect than that.

"The photos will be of you and another man."

My heart fluttered a little, visions of Sasuke hulaed through my mind, and came to a sputtering halt.

"Good luck trying to get those pictures, asshole."

There. I thought that'd be the end. Hopefully, this Neji would go away and I would resume my normal programs already in progress. But then since I ended up in the damned skirt, you know it didn't end there. Oh god no.

"I only need pictures of you, you imbecile." Neji should meet Sasuke, I thought, they both think so highly of me, "have you never heard of Photoshop?"

My guardian is a computer tech, I know that much at least. So it wasn't surprising that my initial response to that was a snort and "I know it and it ain't going to do much good. It'll look so fake that even the brain-dead jocks will see that those pictures are-"

I didn't even get to finish, because my tongue curled and died as Neji took out a whole bunch of pictures from his backpack and shoved them into my hands. And let me tell you, these pictures were awesome. The kind of awesome that can only be done by movie studios or something. Despite the nausea building in the pit of my stomach, I was damned impressed.

"Did you do all these?" Yeah, my priorities had not made their return yet, "they are great! I mean, it really looks like you're dancing with that chick from that show on that channel! And this one! Shit, you're a fucking genius."

"So you must understand that I can make photos of a caliber that can show you and another man in many positions of very compromising nature."

Yeah, I saw that. If pictures of me and another dude bumping our junk together got released into the wilds, my chances of surviving high school would be less than zero, and Sasuke would never, ever even look at me again. And damn it, that's just not cool, since I want to one day get drunk enough to kiss him again, but not drunk enough to not remember it afterwards!

Neji stood there without a single expression on his face as I contemplated my choices. On the one hand, I can cross dress and spy on his cousin and say goodbye to any and all self respect I have. On the other hand, I can keep my dignity, but get outed (more like kicked out of the closet) by this jerk and suffer the wrath of my classmates until the end of days and never have a chance of any kind with Sasuke.

Yeah, with Sasuke in the equation, there was no contest and hence, hello Uzumaki Naruto the drag queen.

Back to the present – Gaara's finally stopped laughing (I think his lungs seized, god I hope so) – and I wonder for the thousand and second time why I am in this position.

"You look ridiculous." Thanks Gaara, like I didn't already know that much. "You don't look like a girl at all."

Well, I hope not. What kind a guy wants to be told he looks like a girl? Ever?

"Tell me why you have to do this again?" Gaara asks, trying to squeeze the last drop of amusement out of my humiliating ordeal.

"I was told by the asshole that if I did not follow his flawless fucking strategy, he'd paper the halls with very bad pictures."

"Why don't you just let me kick his ass and be done with it?"

See, I did consider that. A lot. Not many people can go head to head against Gaara, I mean, he's an asskicking machine when you come right down to it, I have no doubts he'd turn Neji into a semi-attractive smear on the sidewalk. But that won't prevent the pictures from coming out (pun is totally intended) and well, I have the feeling that a beaten like a redheaded stepchild Neji would be more than vindictive enough to have those pictures 'shopped into something so hardcore that not even the Japanese could handle them.

"Look man, thanks for the offer, really." I sigh and wriggle my feet into my sneakers. No way in hell I'm wearing girl shoes, all of them were designed for torture, "but this one favor, and I can forget that I ever met that bitch of a guy."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, this is hilarious and I think I just may have to buy this Neji dude a house for this much amusement." Okay, Gaara, you suck, like a cheap whore with no teeth. "But no way I'm letting him blackmail you like this. There must be vengeance."

The unholy gleam in Gaara's eyes tells me that he would plot his evil retribution with or without my cooperation. Fine, whatever, the less I know, the less I can tell the cops.

"Stop your evil ways, you scary fuck and drive me th St. Gabriel's already, okay?"

He complies, still chuckling, but I don't know if that's because of my predicament or because he's thinking about his plan. When we finally get to the school of the filigree fences and immaculate lawns, Gaara shoves me out of his car, waves, and then leaves me there in all my cross dressed glory.

Jackasses must be the only creatures allowed in my life, I think.

So yeah, here I am, standing by the entrance to the girl's locker room, the wind faintly fluttering the skirt and shrinking my already retracted balls, nothing to do but man up (oh, stop laughing damn you!) and go into the locker room, when the thing happens. The 'thing' that makes Neji the vilest of all demons in hell.

Looking like this, no underwear, no man's clothing, no dignity, what happens except that Sasuke runs into me?


	12. Chapter 12

Here's the next one. For some reason, this fic is getting convoluted, but hey, it just means there's more to come, right? I don't know if this fic will ever end, I'll just write until the muse shoots herself in the head to escape agony.

Onward, brave comrades!

Chapter 12

So, you know how time stands still when you lock eyes with the love of your life? I hear that's supposed to be good, like the two of you are in a world of your own with sparkles and singing birds whirling around. Well, with me, 'supposed to be' and 'actually is' do not share a resemblance.

For instance, let us talk about this scene right here. I am in a skirt, hairy legs and hanging package and all, standing frozen, my eyes wide in horror and disbelief, staring at Sasuke who is looking at me with.. surprise? Terror? I can't decipher anything because my brain has ceased all its operations. However, one thing is clear.

I am so fucked.

"What.." Sasuke clears his throat a couple of times before he could even get anything else out, "what the hell?"

That's my line, man.

"You are dressed like a girl."

I can only give a rictus of a grin at that, because I can't talk. Seriously, had I any faculties left, I would have run away, Neji's plan be damned, and found a hole in the ground to hide in until Armageddon. Of all people in this world, Sasuke is the last person I wanted to see me like this! But no, I'm standing still as Sasuke peruses my form from head to toe, his eyes twitching and his fingers drumming an incessant beat on his legs.

"You make a very bad girl."

Is that a compliment? Insult? Do I even care?

"Why are you here?"

Finally, the part of my brain that controls speech sparks to life, but the neurons that send messages to my legs, still missing.

"Sakura's on the volleyball team, so I'm here to see her." Of course, how could I have forgotten that as a dutiful boyfriend, Sasuke is obliged to show up to his girlfriend's activities. "I got here early, so I was wandering around.. and then.."

Yeah, and then. Me. I hate you, Neji, do you hear me? I will hunt you down before Gaara can ever get to you and fucking kill you, mafia style.

"This is not what it looks like!" I manage, "I don't do this often. At all, really. This is so not.. you know?"

Sasuke backs off a few steps and eyes me like he's going to call security and have me shipped off to the nearest jail cell. I don't blame him, how can I, I am pretty damned suspicious looking in this get up.

"What is it supposed to look like?" Good question to which I have no answer. "From where I stand, it looks like you're in women's clothing, and you don't know your own size."

Okay, fine. Criticize me because the uniform I'm wearing is not tailor made for my masculine figure. It's so not my fault that I had to hold up the skirt with a couple of safety pins since the zipper refused to go past my hipbone. Not my fault that the sweater is loose around the chest (rightfully so, no manboobs for me) and tight around everywhere else. And anyways, why am I rhapsodizing on the fit of the damned outfit? Sasuke really does make me into a raving retard, doesn't he.

All that aside, fact remains that I can't let him think that I do this regularly, like cross dressing is a hobby of mine or something. No, that is not acceptable, and I will blurt out whatever I need to in order to make him understand that I'm not what he thinks I am.

I am not a pervert! At least, not to the level he must think I am.

"I lost a bet," comes out of my mouth desperately, "this is just a bet! I'm not into this kind of shit."

And to my surprise, Sasuke nods, like he expected something to that effect, and then.. he laughs.

Not mocking, not humiliating, not even condescending. He laughs like.. like he's relieved.

"I mean," I continue as Sasuke chuckles, "you gotta honor your bets, right? If I were a serious cross dresser, I'd like shave my legs or something. Or wear lady underthings."

By now, Sasuke's laughing so hard that he has to clutch his aching stomach and lean against the wall to maintain balance. And soon, I'm laughing with him helplessly, because let's face it, I got nothing to lose now.

The laughter eventually peters out and awkward silence sets in. Sasuke keeps staring at me with a smirk on his lips and I have as much movement in my legs as a paraplegic, and we would've probably stayed staring at each other if not for a sudden noise of people talking and walking towards us.

"Shit!" I manage to scream as I look frantically around for a place to hide, "crap!" And before I can let loose any more profanities, Sasuke grabs my wrist and shoves the both of us into a small janitor's closet that was apparently near by.

It takes a long while for me to assimilate just what the fuck happened. One, Sasuke saved me, he saved my life by hiding my ass (and the rest of me). Two, he's in the closet with me (I have to laugh, that's like the worst pun ever, but in the very literal sense, true). Three, he's still holding my wrist.

If it wasn't for the fact that any noise would have attracted the worst kind of attention, I would have squealed like a boy-band fangirl at this situation. I had a fantasy like this not too long ago - the two of us in an enclosed space away from prying eyes as we did things to each other that even Kakashi would blush at. Sure, in that scenario, I was not in a skirt (actually, clothes of any kind were totally uninvolved), the dark romantic space wasn't filled with dirty mops, and the air didn't smell like week old throw-up, but hell, this is as close as I'm gonna get, and I'll take it.

I'm so busy reveling in my private moment with Sasuke and the feel of his hand on my skin that when I finally remember why the hell I'm here, I bang my head into the wall with enough force to rattle the cleaning supplies resting on the shelf.

"Jesus, you idiot, quiet down or they'll find us."

Sasuke's whispers are sexy, I hazily think, before I regain my senses and realize that I missed my chance at sneaking into the girl's locker room. Oh my god (wait, fuck that, I don't have a god, not after this), Neji is going to ruin my already precarious reputation and no amount of stabbing him will ever make it right.

"I am screwed, so screwed," I mumble as I picture next week whereupon my fake but realistically portrayed erotic homosexual adventures will be plastered everywhere.

"All I had to do was sneak into the girls' locker room, but no, couldn't do that. No..." I degenerate into incoherent nonsense after that, and I wonder what kind of paperwork it takes to have Iruka home-school me.

"Idiot, shut up." Oh Sasuke, have some sympathy for the condemned, would ya? "Why do you need to go to the girl's locker room anyway?"

"Oh, you heard me." He must have the ears of a bat, "it's part of the bet." Yeah, stick with the bet thing, because it's so much cooler than blackmailing.

"So you can't do the bet, the world doesn't end because of that."

If I weren't suffocating in despair like a goldfish in molasses, I'd be really touched and grateful for Sasuke's encouraging words. But even Sasuke's sex god voice (he can probably get girls to take off their panties just by grunting at them) could not cheer me up. Neji doesn't seem like the forgive and forget type, and more the.. 'you have betrayed me, Fredo' type.

"This had to be done, Sasuke," I rasp, my throat is very dry for some reason, "and since I didn't, Neji's going to.."

I can't finish. So I look up, take in Sasuke's face in the dim, single bulb light of this dank closet – this might be the last time I see him (I'm not being a drama queen!) - and hope that in the next life, I'll come back as a happy little puppy who has nothing better to do than sleep, eat, poop, and eat a squirrel named Neji.

"Neji put you up to this? How do you know that bastard?"

Sasuke sounds surprised, like.. surprise sex in prison surprised. His eyes have gone a little wide and his hand on my wrist tightens, which is fine, I don't need circulation there, my life is over anyway.

"I don't know the bastard," we finally agree on something. "He just showed up one day, made me put on this fucking thing, and said I had to spy on his cousin."

"You made a bet with someone you don't know with this as the consequence? What are you, a special ed superstar?"

I had almost forgotten how mean and insulting Sasuke can be. And of course, instead of being hurt or any number of negative things, I find it funny and really hot. I must be crazy (stupid).

"That doesn't matter," I hiss, no way in hell I'm telling Sasuke what he's going to see next week, I don't want to picture it, let alone describe it, "I missed my chance of listening to a bunch of half naked girls gossip about who they like and what they do with their bras to make their boobs look big."

Were I not in love with Sasuke (and gay, can't be forgetting that), Neji might not have had to extort me into this. I think most guys my age would freely give up an organ or two to see a bunch of chicks get naked.

"I knew Neji was touched in the head, but this is too much, even for him." Sasuke lets go of my wrist (damn) and rubs his forehead lightly as he continues his monologue, "his cousin Hinata does go here, but they hardly talk to each other, so why all this?"

Yeah, not my concern, doesn't matter what Neji's thinking, just what he's going to do. I wonder if I have enough time to call Gaara and see if he can wreak some havoc on Neji. At least then we'll be even - my life will be worth less than the Russian ruble and his spine will be more slush than bone.

"What did Neji want from you?"

Huh, Sasuke sounds kind of pissed, like when he was yelling at Itachi. I guess Sasuke and Neji aren't the best of friends.

"He wanted to know if his cousin liked some guy, and what his name was." Why not, Sasuke's seen me in my lowest times (passed out, hung over, in drag, gah, I really racked those up), what's one more?

"What? That's what he wanted?" I don't think I've seen that expression on Sasuke's face before, looks kind of like he's choking down a squirmy hamster.

"Everyone knows who Hinata likes." Sasuke says, and my jaw drops (that's been happening a lot lately, maybe I should just leave it down). "She likes Kiba, her boyfriend of three years. Neji introduced them."

You don't say.

I listen as people filter by outside, sounding cheerful and carefree, I'm sure all of them have a spring in their step. I listen as the noise ebbs, as quiet settles once more, as Sasuke watches me carefully with his gorgeous eyes. Time goes by, eons pass before my eyes, planets come to life and die.

Then.

"WHAT THE FUCK?"


	13. Chapter 13

So, am I going to explain why Neji did what he did? Sure. Did I do it here? Maybe. Am I being coy? Yes. Am I drunk? Most likely.

Let's get ready to rumble.

Chapter 13

A while back, Gaara and I got smashed on some schnapps and discussed philosophy. Most of it was incoherent, mind you, but at the time, it was the most profound thing in the world, and from what I remember, we came to the conclusion that karma existed, and that it fairly balanced out the good with the bad. You know, what goes around, comes around, the great wheel of justice, et cetera.

If that's the case, if karma is a universal truth, somewhere in the last couple of months, this great wheel went off track, lost a spoke, broke an axle and decided to run me the hell over.

I freaked out just a tad when Sasuke told me that the point of Neji's task to me had no point, that Neji, for some unfathomable reason, decided to pick me, someone he'd never met to force him to do something for him that had nothing to do with anything.

My impromptu loss of sanity came with yelling, flailing, a red haze before my eyes, and a growling voice in my head insisting on violence. If I had been in that closet by myself, most likely I would have gone running out of it like an extra from the battle scene in Braveheart (I was in a skirt, after all), and attacked the nearest being with long hair.

Good thing Sasuke was there to restrain me – you know, by punching me in the face as soon as I yelled and started for the door.

So I ended up on my ass, my back and head hitting the wall behind me, because Sasuke knows how to hit a guy. I guess he's not in the martial arts club for nothing – I'm going to have a spectacular bruise on my left cheek and I may have something for the tooth fairy later on tonight.

"You stupid moron," Sasuke breathes out, "do you want to get discovered? You have no discretion, I swear to god."

"What does it matter anymore?" Yeah, I'm pretty despairing, really down in the dumps, I should write a bad blues song, "my life is done. No more. You know, shufflin' off this mortal coil, kicking the bucket.." I would have gone on, but my face hurts. Hmm, maybe I should ask Sasuke how to punch like that so I can practice on Neji.

"No one's seen you, except me." Sasuke squats down to my eye level, sighs, then puts a hand over his eyes in what I think might be exasperation.

I don't respond, but hey, at least I'm being quiet now. Good Christ, why me? Why was I singled out by that sadistic bastard for this? Did I kill and rampage through the countryside in my past life eating sacks filled with kittens and bunnies? What?

"Look, we can't stay here. It's pretty quiet now, so we should go, okay?"

And then there's that. Why is Sasuke of all people being nice to me? Didn't he hate me for that kissing thing and then the pestering for a ride, then.. I mean, he hardly spoke to me while I was dodging Lee and Kakashi through the hallways like I was playing ninja tag, and now, suddenly, he's my savior. And he tried to cheer me up, is trying to get me out of here, and I might even argue that the assault was for my own good. My mind can't take this kind of abuse, damn it, reeling from one end of the spectrum to the other in this demonic pendulum. So, I decide, why not just signal a shut down of all systems, zone out, and drift into a calm, happy coma.

I think I must've done that, or I had a small aneurysm, because suddenly, I'm in Sasuke's car as it's speeding down the road to.. somewhere not St. Gabriel's.

"What the fuck?" That's going to become my trademarked catchphrase from now on. I seem to say nothing else.

"Why am I doing this?" I hear Sasuke say, I don't think he heard me coming back to life, "I'm supposed to be watching Sakura hit a white ball around like I care. This has nothing to do with me, I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing, why, why, why.."

So he went, litany of the why punctuated by punches to his steering wheel. I guess he's agitated, but hell, I can't give him any answers. Can't give what you don't got, I think that's some saying.

I clear my throat, and finally, Sasuke notices I'm no longer a drooling vegetable, and shoots me a glare that should rightfully be a classified weapon of mass destruction, it can level cities, so I don't feel like a coward sinking in my seat.

"Where are we going?" I ask in a voice reserved for confessionals, and Sasuke barks out something that sounds kind of like 'your house, you freaking idiot.' Or it could have been 'goulash coloring rabbit.' Either way, not good.

"We can't go to my house, Sasuke," I have some sense left in me, after all, "if my guardian sees me, he's going to put me in electroshock therapy until I'm thirty."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do with you?" Sasuke's left eye is doing that mad twitching thing and I'm pretty sure he's hyperventilating.

"I don't know. I mean, you're the genius, you figure it out!"

Well, I probably should not have said that. Or more accurately, I definitely should not have yelled that, because Sasuke's going to toss me out of his moving car head first, and some poor family of five going on a fun picnic outing is going to find my bare-assed, cross-dressed body in the ditch. I'm going to have the most embarrassing obituary this town has ever seen, that is certain.

But Sasuke's all about surprising me today – instead of introducing me to my much needed demise, he makes a sharp left turn that should only be done in Mario-Kart, guns the speed up to 'please arrest me officer,' and when my gibbering fear subsides from his insane maneuvers, we're at his house.

Yeah, his house. The one place I never thought I'd see again.

And five seconds after I follow him into the house, I remember why it was a good thing that I never see his house again. Before I could even properly admire the foyer and take off my shoes, an arm drapes over my shoulders and I'm pulled into the naked torso of Itachi, Sasuke's scary brother.

If I weren't such a staunch and manly dude, I think I'd have screamed and started crying.

"Welcome back, Sasuke's sweetie," Itachi coos, and I wonder if being dead on the side of the road might be the better choice, "you are such a cute little bag of mysteries and intrigue, aren't you?"

I don't know how to get the hell away, because I can't shove him – it would mean I'd have to touch his bare chest – and I sure can't elbow him in the gut, knee him in the balls and karate chop his head. I guess at this point, I should just give up and be glad that Itachi at least had pants on instead of whatever travesty he was wearing last time.

And for the second (or is it third?) time today, Sasuke rescues me. And I use that term loosely, because this time, he grabs me by the v-neck collar of my fuzzy yellow sweater top and yanks me out of Itachi's hold – effective, but painful. Like most people, I like my head attached to my neck.

"Oh, Sasuke, aren't you just so possessive," Itachi can really coat everything he says in sex, it's an achievement, "just make sure you call me if you two need anything. I'm making lunch!"

Itachi's yelling by the end of that, since by that point, Sasuke had dragged me up the stairs (still by my neck, ouch) and to his room.

Once again, I see Sasuke's room, so clean that the hardwood floor portion is reflective enough for me to clench my legs together and walk like a duck. Love of my life is a bit of an anal neat freak, and that thought leads me down a dirty slide into the sewers where my mind permanently resides. Reminder to self, do not say anal in anything related to Sasuke, at least not where he can see me.

As I stand in the middle of his room uncertain of what to do, Sasuke, being the in-charge guy that he is, commands me to sit. Like I'm a dog or something, just 'sit, damn you,' not 'would you like to have a seat, my dear guest?'

So, what do I do? Instead of taking a chair like a civilized person, I flop to the floor, cross my legs indian style, and bury my face into my hands, all the while being grateful that the skirt is knee-length, just long enough that I can sit on fabric instead of making an Uzumaki butt print onto Sasuke's spectacularly clean floor.

"Chirst all mighty," I hear Sasuke say, "what the fuck is wrong with me?"

I wish to the fictional being in the sky that I could say something to calm Sasuke, but I'm up to my damned eyeballs in my own problems right now. I have no room to sympathize with anyone else, even if it is Sasuke.

"I can't believe I brought you here. Itachi's never going to let me live this down."

As I figure it, Itachi teasing you until the cows come home and the entire school tormenting you for being a totally gay S&M freak, I would have to ask for an option C – and it better involve severing of an artery.

"You!" I lift my head to see Sasuke glaring at me like I shit in his bathtub, "get changed." I receive a face full of tee-shirt and jeans. "And try not to step outside of this room unless you want Itachi to attack you."

Sound advices, all of them. In my hands I hold Sasuke's shirt and pants, his own clothes that have hugged his chest, brushed against his stomach, fondled his ass, and he wants my parts to rub against them. Wow. Of course, I ruin it by having a vomit of words.

"I aint' wearing underwear, man. You still cool with me putting on your pants?"

So, yeah, I thought if a human being turned that pale, then boiled lobster red and back to pale, all in less than five seconds, you'd have to pass out from the strain. Not Sasuke though, he's fucking superman – that is not a double entendre, so stop the snickering.

"You.. you.." I think Sasuke has finally run out of ways to call me an idiot. "The hell are you doing running around in a goddamned skirt without.." I gotta say, I've never heard Sasuke blather so incoherently before, and it's kind of cute. And that maddening ticking of his eye – he might want to get that looked at, it's spasming pretty badly.

Then, Sasuke gives up, or he just ran out of steam in his weird-shit-I-can-take meter, because he just goes boneless and sits across from me with a deep sigh.

"Just wear the clothes," he says, and if he were not such a stud, I think he'd be whimpering, "I don't care if your wang's in my pants."

I cough, because I choked on air at that, too many exciting, perverted things going on in my head to really make sense of any of them, and Sasuke belatedly realizes just what the hell came out of his lips.

Is Sasuke immensely adorable when he blushes to the roots of his dark hair? Oh hell yes.

But hey, I'm a nice guy, I don't want to prolong my crush's embarrassment any longer, so I gather his clothes (drooling is not good, stop it) and walk over to the bathroom that thankfully is connected to his room, not the hallway. At the door, I turn to ask Sasuke if he has objections to me using his private bathroom, only to see him dial a number with vicious strokes of his fine fingers.

"Who're you calling?"

"Neji." His reply is clipped and his lips twist into a smirk. "He better explain what the hell is going on, or I'm going to sic Itachi on him."

Well, why not, that's something I'd like to know as well. And is it wrong that some part of me wishes Neji will decline explication so that I can see Itachi molest the crap out of him?

God forbid.


End file.
